Chuck vs the Watcher
by DrMcDuck
Summary: With the virus, slips, and wedding still raising havoc, Chuck and Sarah both try to deal what they’ve gotten themselves into. Picks up right where “Chuck vs. Sweet Home Alabama” left off, Chuck/Sarah.
1. Chapter 1

Chuck vs. the Watcher

With the virus, slips, and wedding still raising havoc, Chuck and Sarah both try to deal what they've gotten themselves into. Picks up right where "Chuck vs. _Sweet Home Alabama_" left off, Chuck/Sarah.

Rating: T, for some interesting romantic situations and sporadic use of strong language.

Spoilers: This story takes place through 2.07, "Chuck vs. the Fat Lady." Nothing occurring in canon after that has occurred here.

_A/N: Project at work's over, folks. Time for some serious _Chuck _FF action. This chapter's a little short, but I wanted to get the ball rolling before launching into the fun stuff._

_This story (literally) continues right where the other story, "Chuck vs. _Sweet Home Alabama,_"_ _left off. All the awesome readers/reviewers of _SHA _deserve special thanks (particularly __**sharpasamarble**__ for multiple discussions about my geometry skills). I should especially thank the _SHA _reviewers for not killing me (though I know a few of you were rather tempted) with how it ended. We'll have to see how long it takes before I manage to inspire similar thoughts again with this story._

_This sequel could have easily been extra chapters at the end of the first one, but a.) I didn't have this section of the plot entirely mapped out until recently, after I finished _SHA_, and b.) real-life time constraints made it rather implausible, as witnessed by this not being written until four months after the other story. "Watcher" will probably make _much_ more sense if you read its predecessor first (which is posted here on FF in the normal place where _Chuck_ stories live). The decision, ultimately, is yours._

_I proofed the chapter a few times, but undoubtedly missed a few errors, for which I profusely apologize and promise to fix as soon as I find them. To stave off any possible confusion, be aware that several italicized words in a row tend to denote a character's thoughts (or, for this chapter, a flashback). And, last, I don't own _Chuck_, because if I did, a certain employer starting certain projects weeks early would have no impact on my life for months and my subsequent ability to write _Chuck_ FF, since I would no longer need to be employed by said entity._

-.-.-.-

**Day 3 of virus release:** **Sunday**

Sunday at Casa Casey had been more low-key than the Sunday wedding planning madness at Casa Bartowski. Casey had cleaned all his weapons (three times) and was now lounging in his recliner, methodically sharpening his bonsai trees' pruning scissors. Pruning the actual trees would soon follow in an attempt to not think about any of the non-mission events of the past 48 hours. So focused was he on sharpening the pruning scissors at _just_ the right angle that Casey did not notice General Beckman's face appearing, unbidden, on to the video monitor.

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything, Major."

Judging by the mountains of paper on her desk, compared to the cleanliness of her desk during the previous night's debrief, the general had not slept much the night before. Little sleep meant little tolerance for wisecracks. Casey opted for a suppressed growl while he surreptitiously palmed the small scissors into his back pocket.

"No, ma'am. Wh…"

"Where are the asset and Agent Walker?"

Being cut off in mid-sentence didn't faze Casey, but the tone Beckman was using was setting off all sorts of mental alarms. It was the sort of tone superiors used before informing you of a 'change in plans.'

"They are both at the asset's house with his sister and fiancé, ma'am. Should I go get them?"

Beckman almost fell out of her chair, eyes growing wide. Her answer was immediate and had more enthusiasm than Casey would have liked.

"NO!"

Casey's expression now mirrored Beckman's, despite his best efforts to keep his emotions under control. His eyes were not as wide as Beckman's had been, but he looked like he was about ready to leap through the monitor and have a…_spirited_ discussion with the director of the NSA. Beckman noticed the shift in Casey's demeanor and backtracked as much as decorum would allow.

"That came out wrong, Major. No, do not go get them, because while they need to be briefed on the problem, getting them now will exacerbate it."

It was Beckman's use of the word "problem" that connected the dots. He thought back to last night's debrief after the warehouse raid:

_Chuck had just left Casey's apartment, and Casey was about to begrudgingly mention to the general how valuable Bartowski had been on the mission. Instead, she had cut him off with a previously unseen amount of vehemence when he had started to say so, stunning both him and Walker. Seeing their shocked faces, Beckman's expression had softened somewhat as she sighed._

"_We might have a serious problem."_

_Beckman was silent after that, deep in thought. Casey's guess was that the "problem" had something to do with the phone call the general had received a few minutes prior while Bartowski was dealing with his own phone call from his sister. When the general started talking again, any vestige of her prior concern was gone, as if she had never mentioned anything about a possible problem at all…_

"Is this the possible serious problem from last night, ma'am?"

She nodded her head in appreciation of Casey's recall abilities before her face became drawn.

"This would be _actual_ serious problem from last night."

A single sentence description of the problem was enough for a curse to slip from Casey's lips before he carefully amended it.

"Shit…ma'am."

"I couldn't agree more. Your orders are as follows…"

Maintaining an impassive exterior while listening to the new orders, Casey's interior was only slightly less impassive.

_This is not going to end well._

-.-.-.-

Across the courtyard, Chuck's thoughts echoed Casey's own for a completely different reason.

"So, Chuck, have you and Sarah talked any about…you know…"

Ellie's gleeful expression as she emphatically pointed to her left ring finger to punctuate her sentence confirmed Chuck's fears. After the look her and Awesome had exchanged once the wedding planning had concluded, Chuck figured the conversation was heading this way. Sarah was currently in his room, gathering her things before she left, leaving Chuck to singlehandedly fend off the none-too-subtle engagement hints from the soon-to-be Awesomes.

"What? Oh, yeah yeah, we've talked a lot about how we both like having fingers. It makes typing easier, and definitely makes driving much safer with all this city traf…"

Ellie looked like she was about ready to throw something at him. It was enough to send Chuck scurrying into the kitchen just in case she did.

"CHUCK!"

"Oh, you mean m…marriage? It's come up in passing, yes."

_And she does NOT need to know that "in passing" means talking about how to not get Sarah reassigned. _The agent and asset's precarious half-peace from the previous evening was holding, but just. _…because neither of us has had a chance to completely blow it to pieces yet_.

Zeroing in on the towering stack of dishes soaking in the sink as a way to drown out any more questions, Chuck began preparing to wash them all. He had no sooner turned the faucet on when Ellie's hand appeared to shut it off. The look she gave Chuck as she did so and perched on the counter next to him was not the one Chuck wanted to see. That look had implications that would not help the current situation.

"…and what, exactly, came up in passing, Chuck?"

_Ellie's on a mission. Great. Just what I need today—older sister love life interference. In case CIA _and_ possible NSA interference aren't enough._ He elected to plaster on a smile while attempting to end the conversation again as he noisily shifted and sloshed around the dishes in the sink. His smile grew slightly larger as he shouted to be heard over the racket he was making.

"You know. _Wedding_ stuff. It's all very technical and very top secret. If I told you, I'd have to kill you."

Trying to focus again on the dishes, he was up to his forearms in soapy water before Ellie pulled the sink's plug. The acute lack of water in the sink forced Chuck to finally look up at his sister with a less-than-amused expression. Her hands were up in front of her at shoulder level in mock surrender to placate him while she talked.

"I don't mean to pry, Chuck, but I see you two when you're together. Especially lately. You're both crazy about one another. It just seems like it's moving in that direction, and I'm just _curious_ if it's come up, that's all."

Forgetting that his hands were covered with soap suds, the surrounding area soon became covered in suds as he gestured somewhat emphatically. The words were out of his mouth before he had a chance to think them over.

"Look, there's nothing I would love to do more than to propose to Sarah, but there are things beyond our control right now that makes that impossible, OK?"

Awesome repeatedly—and loudly—clearing his throat from his position in the living room preempted the confused squeal that was due to erupt from Ellie. Chuck spun to find Sarah standing in the kitchen doorway with a pleased-shocked-sad expression on her face. She had obviously heard a good portion of the conversation, if not all of it.

_And THAT is the sound of our precarious peace fracturing into teeny tiny little pieces and scattering across Burbank. Damn wedding!_ Ellie was already looking at him apologetically after Sarah had given Ellie and Awesome a hug goodbye and was heading for the door. Dish towel in hand, Chuck was mere steps behind her as he tried to get rid of the last of the suds. Stepping out into the courtyard after tossing the towel back into the apartment and calmly closing the front door, Chuck had to half jog to catch up with Sarah—she was several steps ahead of him already. She hadn't said a word, nor had she looked at him, since returning from his bedroom and overhearing. It worried him. Not talking was getting them into as much trouble as talking was.

"What? Wasn't that an accurate assessment of where we are at the moment?"

Glaring back at him, she wasn't anticipating Chuck's completely open and concerned expression. Or his spirited attempt to chase her down. Both worked their normal magic as she sighed and slowed down to a near stop so he could catch up. _Damn him and his adorable self._ She heard him sigh in relief as he rapidly closed the gap and stood just close enough to assuage any fears from the future Woodcombs that Ellie's prodding had caused a major blowout. A quick look back at the apartment window confirmed that the both were watching them intently, with Ellie looking distraught and Awesome undoubtedly assuring her that everything was fine. Chuck noticed it as well, lowering his voice as he leaned closer.

"I mean, please, if you want me to tell something else to those two, I'm all ears."

His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper as he slightly tilted his head back toward the house, eyes wide, still talking so fast that Sarah couldn't get a word in edgewise.

"They're out for blood! I thought she was going to stick my head under the faucet!"

That earned him a genuine laugh and a smack in the stomach as she finally looked at him, prompting a grin to spread across Chuck's face as he looped his arm around her waist. Both slowly resumed their walk toward her car. Leaning into him slightly, agent mode began screaming at their combined slip. He had slipped in the kitchen with his answer to Ellie, and had just done so again with the arm around the waist; she had slipped by leaning into his embrace. They were supposed to be trying to simplify their situation, not complicate it. Agent mode was going so far as to bark out orders. _Walk faster! His arm around you is not going to help matters any!_ A slight nudge from Chuck pulled her back to the present. He was still waiting for an answer. After a beat or two, she had one.

"No, I suppose that's accurate."

Its accuracy was exactly why she had felt so compelled to get out of the house—and away from him—as fast as possible. She needed distance to think through everything. The current situation wasn't helping. That much she was aware of, even without her inner-agent having a coronary. They'd only taken another step or two in a somewhat comfortable silence when it was broken.

"About last night."

How Chuck's head was still attached to his neck, given the speed that it had whipped in her direction, was a mystery. She was as surprised as he was. Agent mode was fit to be tied. _What the hell prompted that little outburst, Walker!_ They could have easily walked the rest of the way to her car in silence. There was no need for a conversation topic, especially _that_ one. She could feel his eyes on her, and felt his arm tighten around her slightly as she leaned more into him. The words started coming out of her mouth again, as if she had no control over them.

"I th…"

Casey entering the courtyard with an unusual amount of flourish and noise killed the rest of Sarah's sentence. Both stunned by his blatant entrance, the NSA agent crossed over to where Chuck and Sarah were now stopped. Casey looked unusually cheerful and…human.

"Hey there, Chuck. We still on for carpooling to work tomorrow?"

Chuck wondered if there was a secret moat hidden somewhere in the courtyard underneath an innocuous patio tile. If there was, he found himself wishing that Casey would accidentally fall into it—his timing left a lot to be desired. _What the hell! Where is this coming from? When _don't_ we carpool? And since when do I have an actual name? _Chuck's answer came out with a grimace as he ground his teeth and attempted to smile, if only to put on the show for the doctors. He could still see them hovering near the window out of the corner of his eye as he turned to face Casey.

"Sure, _John_. Same time as normal?"

A momentary snarl crossed Casey's face at the use of his first name before it disappeared. Subconsciously, Chuck drew Sarah slightly closer because of it, figuring that the proximity of one agent would offset the anger of the other. _Calling him "John"…not smart_. Another thought emerged only after he realized _which_ agent he had drawn closer. _…and neither was that._

Sarah was thinking the same thing. She still had no idea why she felt the need to bring up last night. She needed to get away from Chuck, and needed to do so quickly. At the rate they were both going today, she was going to be reassigned by sunset. Casey's flamboyant entrance gave her that very opportunity. Planting a quick peck on Chuck's cheek, she loosed herself from his hold as she continued toward her car, walking backwards a little bit while she said goodbye, trying her best to keep as much teasing out of her voice as possible, given the amusing sight in front of her.

"Sounds like you boys have lots to talk about. I'll see you tomorrow during lunch hour, Chuck?"

_I'm going to kill you, John Casey. _All Chuck could manage was a subdued smile as he nodded yes to Sarah before turning back to his other handler. The magnitude of Casey's smug grin while answering Chuck's question seemed to be directly related to the intensity of the latter's thoughts.

"Yep, I'll see you then, neighbor."

While Chuck and Casey returned to their places of residence and Sarah continued her focused walk toward her car, none of them noticed someone quietly slipping out of a hiding place behind an oddly shaped hedge with a horrible vantage point of the courtyard.

-.-.-.-

**Day 4: Monday**

Coffee mugs were not particularly good at blocking sunlight, Chuck had decided. Sunglasses would be a better bet. With the way shade-less Casey was driving, the glare coming off the road didn't seem to be bothering him any: it was surprisingly calm and very civilian-like. A passerby would never know that Casey normally drove as if a column of enemy tanks was in hot pursuit. Casey's odd behavior was starting to freak Chuck out, between yesterday in the courtyard and the soothing drive into work. _Nothing a little chit-chat won't figure out._

"Something on your mind, big guy?"

The steering wheel sounded like it snapped in half as Casey tightened his grip on it. _I wonder if that's what my spine's going to sound like when it cracks_. Scrunching over against the passenger side door to put himself outside of Casey's human-throttling radius, Chuck was treated to a disturbing chuckle from Casey, coupled with a completely insincere smile.

"Just enjoying the drive, that's all."

Before Chuck knew it, Casey had cranked the radio up to its full volume and was talking in a very low tone with urgency, barely moving his lips.

"Not a word, moron. Don't change your facial expression any—we're under surveillance. Act like we're still having a pleasant drive into work. Take a sip of your coffee if you can hear me alright and understand."

_You mean can I hear you with the radio on full tilt and you barely moving your lips? Oh I totally can. The Intersect provides me with supersonic hearing, actually…not._ Sensing that Casey wouldn't appreciate the retort, Chuck instead chose to look thoughtfully out the window while sipping his coffee. Knowing that he could be heard, Casey gave Chuck the 45-second version of what was going on, pretending to love the song playing on the radio by turning it up even more while he did.

"Someone is getting curious about why Walker and I have been out here for a while. Beckman told me yesterday morning. Long story short, people are out here poking around to see what they can find. You need to assume that you are being watched at all times. Start singing along with me if you understand that."

_Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh do I ever understand that, but do we really have to _sing_?_ A rousing duet of the song's chorus confirmed it for Casey, who delivered the last little bit of the news before the song ended.

"You need to tell Walker. I can't do it without setting off more alarm bells. The Orange Orange has audio interference equipment so that whoever's watching us won't be able to hear what you say without physically being in the shop to hear with their own ears. They'll be able to see you, though, so you need to perform…_convincingly_ so that you guys can both get downstairs to Castle without raising suspicion to be ful…"

Chuck cut Casey off with a coughing fit before taking a sip of coffee to calm his 'throat irritation.' As he pretended to sip the coffee, Chuck hissed out the very reason he had interrupted in the first place. He understood that Casey was telling him the heavily redacted version, but something more pressing wasn't clicking.

"Whoa whoa whoa, what, exactly, is 'convincingly'? I can't think of any way that both of us going downstairs won't look suspicious."

Chuck could make out the growl coming from Casey without trying hard. It had a distinctly different pitch from the radio.

"Moron. We can't get into this now, but they think she's your girlfriend—who knows why. You two going into the back room for _alone_ time won't look suspicious."

The coughing fit was real this time. Chuck drained his entire coffee mug and was about to voice his protest when Casey finished talking quickly as the song's last verse began.

"Both of you need to get downstairs to be fully briefed by the general on your lunch hour, Bartowski. This'll all make more sense then. Sell it or else you'll be an expert on different shades of bunker concrete by the weekend."

Casey turned down the radio as the song ended and hooted a few times in appreciation. His tone of voice and cadence was back to what it was before Casey's Karaoke-and-Top-Secret-Briefing Hour.

"Good song, eh, Chuck?"

His tie felt like a literal noose after Casey's little bombshell. Chuck had no choice but to reply as he loosened his tie, holding in his nervous chuckle quite well as he raised his now-empty mug in the song's honor before taking a fake sip.

"It's one of my new favorites."


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: For all who read (and particularly those who reviewed) the first chapter, you're all awesome. The amount of undeserved positive feedback never ceases to amaze me—I'm glad you all like how this has started out. I fully intend on responding to all of your reviews, but I wanted to get this chapter done first. (It provided a good guilt incentive to write faster.)_

_The normal McDuck disclaimers still apply._

_-.-.-.-_

**Day 4: Monday**

Both of Chuck's feet weren't even in the Buy More yet before Morgan spotted him. In no time, the small-bearded man had bolted across the sales floor and had Chuck in the infamous sideways Morgan hug, complete with leg wrap.

"Mon capitan! I'm so glad that you're alive!"

After his chat with Casey while driving to work, Chuck was slightly on edge, and the short walk across the wide open parking lot hadn't done much to calm his nerves. Morgan's sudden ambush caused him to jump a mile, sending his coffee mug straight up in the air—it made a much better projectile than it did a sunlight blocker. Bobbling the mug a few times before catching it again as it returned to Earth, Chuck tried to take a few calming breaths. _You're not even in the store yet and you're freaking out already. Bravo, Chuck: good way to help the team._ A puzzled expression crossed Chuck's face as he registered what Morgan had said.

"Why wouldn't I be alive, Morgan?"

Morgan gave Chuck an "are you kidding?" expression as he detached himself, poking the latter in the shoulder a few times for emphasis.

"Dude, I called you six times last night! SIX TIMES! You didn't pick up! I thought you had been kidnapped by the LargeMart buffoons!"

Chuck's puzzled expression intensified as they strolled toward the Nerd Herd desk. He'd been home all night, trying to make more headway on identifying the virus' author (with little success). Come to think of it, he didn't remember seeing his cell phone at all last night. He hadn't really noticed because he'd been so busy. The last time he remembered seeing it was…_ Oh hell_, he thought. A comical pocket check, involving patting all of his pockets (front and back) in an exaggerated motion to make sure they were truly empty, confirmed that he was indeed cell phone-less. Now that he knew where his cell phone wasn't, he knew _exactly_ where it was.

"Buddy, I'm so sorry. Sarah snagged it from me yesterday afternoon and forgot to give it back before she left."

At the mention of Sarah, Morgan unconsciously scanned the aisles and walked a little closer to Chuck.

"Ah, yes, the lady friend. Is she, uh, still mad about the on-call shifts from last week?"

_So that explains why Morgan is practically walking on top of me. He's waiting for Sarah to jump out and kill him still._ Chuck swung around the Nerd Herd desk and dropped his briefcase to the ground, giving the large stacks of paper a quick once over. They were still sizable, with the virus continuing to infect many users. With the work week starting today, imagining the size of the stacks by the end of the day was making Chuck sick.

"You'd have to ask her, Morgan. I've been a little busy trying not to get killed myself."

_And there's today's understatement_. Morgan was beginning to formulate his reply, as indicated by his rapid hand gestures, when a new voice entered the conversation.

"Well that would explain why you never returned our calls, Mr. Bartowski. You're a very difficult man to get in touch with."

A decently dressed man had appeared next to Morgan. Chuck could already see that Casey had noted the arrival and was calmly weaving his way over toward the Herder desk. _Quick, say something before Casey decapitates the unsuspecting man!_

"Ha, yeah, sorry. The girlfriend wasn't too pleased with the phone ringing so much this weekend. How can I help you?"

The man offered his hand, which Chuck quickly shook to signal Casey to relax.

"I'm Grant Daniels and I work for Symantec. We'd like to talk to you about your coding for the virus released last Friday."

Symantec was best known for the Norton AntiVirus products—something all Buy More employees were well aware of. Morgan had slinked away once he'd heard the word "Symantec", and was doing a small victory dance visible only to Chuck behind Daniels' back.

"Yeah, yeah, sure. What about it?"

Daniels produced a business card and sealed envelope from an interior suit coat pocket. He tapped both on the counter unconsciously as he talked.

"I'll bet you're as busy as we are, so we'll keep this short. It's come to our attention that you've written code that both removes the virus once a computer is infected and protects against potential infection. We'd like to purchase that code from you and include it in our official virus definition updates. The envelope contains the legal documents, including how much we'd like to pay you for your code."

"_It's come to our attention"? How would it _come_ to your attention, exactly? _It took another moment before light bulb went on—the NSA. He was being reimbursed for the virus work. He didn't know whether to be ecstatic that Beckman actually delivered on her promise or disappointed that this visit wasn't real. Daniels seemed to recognize that Chuck had pieced everything together, and forged on before Chuck could even respond to the first offer.

"On a completely different note, if this code is as good as we've heard it is, we'd like you to consider working for us. We've done a little bit of poking around and know that you're a Stanford grad, which makes you more than qualified. We have offices here in LA—Santa Monica, actually. Driving into the office wouldn't be too bad, if you had to come in at all. For the job we're interested in hiring you for, there's a great degree of flexibility when it comes to hours and work location. What do you think?"

Chuck's mouth hung agape. Promptly shutting it once he realized it was when he heard Casey growl clear across the store, it took him another minute to stammer something aloud. _Did I really just get an actual job offer?_

"Wow, that is…wow."

A few more seconds passed before Chuck was able to form a full sentence.

"Do you mind if I just…think all of this over for a little bit? I know you really need the code and everything, but I promise I'll have an answer for you guys in a few hours."

Daniels gave a knowing nod with a slight smile as he finally stopped tapping and placed the envelope and card flat on the counter.

"I know how it is. Have to talk to the girlfriend first, right?"

_And the NSA, but what's the difference_. Chuck wanted to make sure that selling his code to Symantec was part of the plan; he'd ask about the job offer after that. The last thing he wanted to do was give the general another reason to bunker-ize him. Others were already providing her with ample reasons, if Casey's recap was accurate.

Chuck slipped the envelope into his back pocket and made a point of putting the business card in his pocket protector—somewhere where it would not be lost, emphasizing its importance and that he intended to call Daniels back—while responded to Daniels' last comment as he would've if the NSA hadn't been involved. He didn't respond with malice; honest curiosity and confusion dominated.

"I care about her a lot and her opinion's important to me. Why wouldn't I talk to her first?"

The shock on Daniels' face was obvious. He'd obviously been expecting a more standard response. Shock soon gave way to outright respect as he shook Chuck's hand firmly.

"Best answer I've heard. And, yes, please—take some time to think about it, but if you could let us know soon, that'd be great."

"Absolutely. I'll talk to you guys soon."

With that, the Symantec rep turned and headed for the Buy More's exit. Chuck marveled at how many game-changing events could occur before 9:30 in the morning. That, in conjunction with another glance at the disarray of the Herder desk, left Chuck with a single thought.

_I definitely need more coffee._

-.-.-.-

Testing a small bit of ice cream for quality purposes, Sarah was staring at the topping bins with the intention of filling them. Her mind, however, was elsewhere. After returning to her hotel room last night, she had intended to take a quick shower before starting the paperwork for the warehouse raid. The "quick shower" turned into an hour long attempt to decompress from the weekend's events involving her and Chuck, with the water extra cold just to expedite the process.

Even then, she had made no headway into figuring out the best course of action, other than the one that Agency protocol dictated, but wasn't particularly possible at the moment: to distance herself as much as possible from him until she regained self-control. That plan, though, while it did have the allure of job security, didn't offer much in terms of happiness. _I wonder if getting Ellie and Awesome to elope would help matters any_, she couldn't help but think as she threw away her ice cream dish. _But that assumes that everything will return to our sort of normal after the wedding_. She sighed while rubbing the kink that had suddenly appeared in her neck unconsciously—this sort of thinking wasn't helping any, if the kink was any indication. _Just keep your head in the game, Walker, for everyone's sake._

"You know, I hear that a hot shower helps with that."

Her recent admonition to stay on task was already forgotten as Chuck's voice echoed in the empty store. The telltale sign was the broad smile across her face as she answered.

"I hear other things help with it, too."

_Where the hell did that come from? HEAD IN THE GAME!_

Chuck's eyes bulged slightly from his head for a moment—the typical response when she flirted back—but his eyebrows shot up and waggled a few times as he started to make his way around the counter.

"Oh reaaaaaaaaaaally? I think this is where I come in."

As she turned her back to the main door in order to face him, her expression mirrored his from a moment ago—her eyes were currently bulging, trying to figure out what was going on. _Where the hell is THIS coming from?_ She actually gasped when one of his hands rose to cradle the side of her neck as he planted a light kiss on the other side, with his free arm sneaking around her and holding her close. Her own arms had gone up reflexively around him when he'd closed in. Unable to completely mask the hitch in her breath, she took to whispering to hide what she could.

"Oh my _God_, w…"

Him responding in a somewhat calm tone threw her for a loop.

"Don't freak out. We're being watched, and the watchers think we're actually dating. We need to stage a make-out session in the back room so we can both get downstairs to be briefed without making them suspicious." He kissed the side of her neck lightly again and planted similar kisses as he travelled down toward her exposed shoulders.

_We won't be _staging _anything__ if he keeps that up_. Somewhere in the recesses of her brain, something kicked into gear long enough for her to start moving them in the direction of the back room. Her fingers made quick work of his tie along the way and went after his shirt buttons next once they had stumbled into the back room, door swinging shut behind them.

Pinned against the wall, Chuck was about to kiss Sarah squarely on the lips when he remembered why they were almost making out in the first place. His hesitation reminded Sarah of the same thing. She backed away and took a few deep breaths, allowing him to do the same. Chuck was babbling apologies already, oblivious that his precariously perched tie had slithered off his neck completely.

"I'm so sorry—I know we just talked about not making things worse, but Casey told me to stage the make-out session so we could get down here in time, and I couldn't give you a heads up because of the surveillance. Please please please don't kill me."

Sarah rolled her eyes as she adjusted her tanktop straps, choosing to focus on the pending brief instead of her shortness of breath as she leaned down for the retinal scanner.

"I'm not going to kill you, Chuck, you were just following orders."

_Note to self: kill Casey instead_. Chuck looked less than convinced as he hesitantly followed her through the now open doorway. Flying down the stairs, both barely had the chance to take up standing positions in front of the main conference room monitor when Beckman appeared. The general launched right into the brief, and after recapping the basic problem—_someone _was wondering why both the CIA's and NSA's top agent had been stationed in Los Angeles for over a year—Sarah's reaction was immediate.

"Shit."

A ghost of a smile crossed General Beckman's lips.

"That was Major Casey's reaction as well."

Beckman elaborated, providing the details that Casey hadn't been able to provide earlier.

"We discovered the problem while going through the files confiscated at the warehouse. It currently appears to be internal—people working _within_ the US intelligence community are getting curious, though we are unsure as to these individuals' loyalties. Subsequent email exchanges to that one, also contained in the files from the warehouse, suggest at least one person will be visiting Los Angeles to investigate why Agent Walker and Major Casey have been in stationed there for so long. This unauthorized investigation has the potential to uncover Operation Bartowski.

"Each of you needs to assume that you can be heard and seen at all times by whoever is investigating. The only places safe to talk are those constantly monitored for bugs and shielded from audio surveillance: the Orange Orange and both agents' apartments. Visual surveillance, however, is more difficult to guard against. You will need to be aware of your surroundings _at all times_."

_If this is the news that the general is STARTING the brief with, _Chuck thought, _we're in so much trouble. I wonder if bunker concrete comes in a soothing shade of taupe? _His nervousness bubbled over.

"Oh that's not good at all. Not good not good not good not good."

Agent mode had immediately come into full force when Sarah had heard what the problem was, and she wholeheartedly agreed. _That is definitely _not_ good_. The news only went downhill from there, with the general patiently waiting until Chuck had finished before continuing.

"From the files, we know three things. First, the newest files related to the email exchanges are less than a week old from today."

Sarah was filling in the spy blanks as Beckman ticked off each point. _Less than a week old means that surveillance either just started or hasn't quite started yet. Even spies can't warp from place to place at the drop of a hat._

"Second, while the individuals suspect that there might be a link between both agents' presence in LA, they don't know for sure."

…_meaning that Casey and I being in the same place could be a very large coincidence._

"And, finally, they have no idea about Mr. Bartowski or the Intersect."

…_meaning that bunker is not the only option available. That's the first good piece of news I've heard so far._

"This has serious implications for the Intersect project. After evaluating all the possible options, I have decided to keep the Intersect in LA, along with both agents. Moving anyone now will raise more suspicions."

Chuck breathed a huge sigh of relief and even broke out into a small grin, but Sarah didn't share his relief. She had a strong sense of foreboding instead. She knew that one of the "possible options" was not only asset bunkerization, but termination. While she was more than glad that both were off the table, she didn't like what options that left. _Beckman didn't orchestrate all of this just to tell me that we're maintaining the status quo_. The general's next sentence confirmed these very thoughts.

"The game plan, however, has changed. We need to create the illusion that separate reasons brought Agents Casey and Walker to LA."

Chuck nodded slowly, looking slightly confused.

"OK, so, Casey and Sarah can't be in the same place ever? That doesn't sound too bad."

_Leave it to Chuck to try to find something positive in this mess_. Sarah's foreboding about the 'mess' slowly increased as Beckman shook her head slightly.

"Not quite, Mr. Bartowski. Agent Casey will remain at the Buy More indefinitely. Eventually, his next assignment will as a member of the ROTC program's cadre at UCLA to keep him in the area. His continued presence in LA will raise some suspicion in itself, but groundwork to reduce that suspicion is being laid as we speak."

Resisting the urge to ask what "laying the groundwork" consisted of—he had visions of ninjas clad in black installing plumbing—Chuck remained silent as the general continued after an abnormally long pause.

"Because we do not know when surveillance began, Agent Walker's situation is unique. If she has been observed already, the most anyone would have seen is her spending time with the Intersect as part of her cover. As a consequence, we have a unique opportunity to tweak your cover, Agent Walker. It will both increase the security around the Intersect and promises to dispel these internal rumors before they draw the attention of others."

Sarah could see Chuck looking over at her fast to gauge her mood, but her expression hadn't changed since the briefing began. Her deep sense of foreboding, though, was almost unbearable. It felt like her chest was about to explode—the general never hedged. Beckman herself took a deep breath, though she did her best to hide it, before uttering the climatic sentence.

"Agent Walker will officially be leaving the CIA."

Somehow Sarah managed to keep her countenance neutral. Inside, she was screaming. _WHAT!_ Unlike Sarah, Chuck was able to nervously babble out a sentence.

"Whoa, whoa, I'm sorry, what? As in…quit? As in _leave_? I thought you said that no one was leaving LA!"

Beckman looked down at her watch before looking back up at Chuck with a slight tinge of annoyance, causing Chuck to check his own reflexively. _Crap, 10 minutes before I have to get back. This was definitely more information than a lunch break can handle._ Taking his cue, he nervously shut up.

"No one is leaving LA. Walker will be leaving the CIA because while carrying out her most recent mission, she fell in love with a local. That local is you, Mr. Bartowski. The Agency will allow her to leave without any…negative repercussions because of her outstanding record, but our official relations will be far from cordial."

Sarah knew she was paling visibly. She could see the concern written across Chuck's face, which had slightly paled as well. The general forged onward, oblivious to the complexion of her audience.

"Unofficially, of course, Walker will still be part of the CIA, but only a handful of individuals will know. Upon quitting the CIA, you two will have the perfect cover as you become engaged, married, and move in with one another. The Intersect will be secure, and Walker will have the perfect reason to be in LA."

The chairs situated around the table skittered a bit across the floor as Chuck stumbled back and sat down heavily on the table, trying his best not to pass out. He'd been trying his best to be OK with the brief as a whole, and he'd been doing alright…until the general had mentioned their new cover, making him officially turn paler than Sarah. His conscience even had an opinion: _Even _Ellie_ stopped short of ordering the two of us to get married!_

"Agent Walker and I will discuss the details of her career switch after Mr. Bartowski returns to the Buy More. She will return to Castle to announce her 'resignation' from the CIA."

Sarah was trying her best to focus on the proximate, tangible parts of the new cover, not the more distant, emotional implications. Filling in the spy blanks again, she got the message loud and clear. _Our little make-out session in the freezer needs to be poignant._ _Spectacular._

Deciding that enough had been said on The Problem for the moment, Beckman suddenly switched topics.

"Mr. Bartowski, were you properly reimbursed?"

He heard his name being called, but it was rather surreal. His eyes were still glazed over due to the enormity of what had just been revealed. Only after Beckman pointedly coughed did Chuck again realize _exactly_ where he was and jumped up like someone had threatened him with a fresh set of immunizations.

"Reimbursed? For the virus stuff? Oh, about that: the guy that stopped by the Buy More this morning—am I supposed to sell him the code? I mean…is it alright to do that, or will you guys arrest me or something, because you know that I can manage that all on m…"

Somehow, the glare that the general gave Chuck didn't crack the monitor in half.

"YES, Mr. Bartowski, you are to sell the code to Symantec. Anything else?"

He went to fidget with his tie before he remembered that it was currently on the floor upstairs and settled for rebuttoning his shirt instead.

"Is the job offer part of the plan, too? It sounds like it might make thin…"

Chuck didn't get a glare this time, but got a look that communicated quite clearly that the job offer had not been part of the plan. If his focus hadn't been on staying upright, he might have felt a little elated.

"The job offer was _not_ part of the plan. We need to evaluate the repercussions for your safety before you think about accepting it."

Switching topics _again_, Beckman closed the conference.

"We will reconvene in 10 minutes, Agent Walker, understood?"

Sarah spoke for the first time since cursing at the beginning of the brief.

"Yes, ma'am. Ten minutes."

Beckman gave a terse nod before cutting off the transmission without asking Chuck about the virus, plunging Castle into sudden silence—apparently, the virus had been backburnered for the time being. Sarah was halfway up the stairs before Chuck registered her departure. Flying after her, he caught up just in time to stretch his arm across the open doorway between Castle and the back room before she could walk through it.

"Sarah, we seriously HAVE to talk about this."

She gave him a cold look as she ducked under his arm.

"We can talk about it later."

_I can't talk about this now without falling apart in front of him._ She was hoping that the horrible look she gave him would serve as a deterrent.

"We _can't_ talk about this later! We have three places where we can actually talk, and we're in one of them now!"

_Or he'll be immune to the look for the first time ever. _She knew he was right. The Orange Orange back room was also the only place where visual surveillance was physically impossible, courtesy of the anti-surveillance and lack of windows. She just needed time to _think_—time alone, time to process everything, time to reconcile herself with the fact that her and Chuck were going to be on top of one another indefinitely, with Beckman expecting professionalism all the while. The confusion and ever-so-slight panic broke through in her voice as she ran her hands through her hair, pacing back and forth in the back room as she did.

"Chuck, I can't talk about this now. I don't know what to say…I don't know what to think…I just don't. know."

He felt himself starting to hyperventilate the more he watched Sarah pace and finally said something.

"OK, I think we both need to breathe, because you're freaking out right now, and you freaking out is making me freak out more than normal."

She stopped in her tracks and looked at him before shifting her eyes to the ceiling and taking several cleansing breaths. _For him, I have to relax and keep it together. _Phrasing it that way helped. When she spoke again, her voice was at least steady. She picked up Chuck's tie and looped it around his neck, focusing intently on retying it without looking at its owner.

"I don't know what Beckman has in mind. This is the first time I've had to go under deep cover to specifically protect the mission from my own employer. Once I know what she has in mind, we'll talk. It won't do us much good to talk about how I'm going to be quitting the CIA until then."

Chuck swallowed a few times and nodded.

"OK, I'll give you that. That makes sense. What about…the other thing."

Stepping back after knotting the tie, she raised an eyebrow at him.

"What other thing?"

He sighed heavily. _You know exactly what other thing I'm talking about, Sarah Walker_. Stepping into her line of sight—she had still been pointedly avoiding his eyes—it only took a moment after their eyes had connected for her to relent.

"I don't know. It certainly doesn't _our_ little problem help any. One thing…," she let out a slow breath, "at a time."

She didn't let the silence last for long.

"Come on, let's get you back over to the Buy More before Casey has to send Morgan after you."

He nodded his assent and stepped over toward the door leading into the store before turning to face her.

"Ready?"

She had to smirk slightly at his innocent tone. It seemed that he forgot what it was that they were supposed to be doing in the back room this entire time, and he'd totally missed Beckman's hint about the poignancy factor. Walking right at him and going straight for his tie, the surprise on his face was comical as they ended up stumbling backward through the door and into the store. While Sarah put the finishing touch on his tie, tightening and centering it perfectly, the grin on his face was dazzling.

"…I'll talk to you later?"

A quick peck to the lips served as her answer as she turned him around to face the correct direction and gave him a playful shove toward the door.

Swallowing down the panic that had returned immediately after he left, Sarah continued to play her ordered role perfectly. Watching him walk back across the parking lot to the Buy More, she looked at him contemplatively with a small smile on her face and pretended to debate something internally before making what appeared to be an important decision. Walking over to the main door with purpose and locking it efficiently while putting up the "Closed" sign, she let the same small smile creep back as she headed into the back room to return to Castle.

Across the parking lot, the individual sitting in the back seat of an old lime green Volkswagen Beetle took note of her every movement through very large binoculars.

_-.-.-.-_

_A/N2: Per the dossier on NBC's website, Casey's service branch is the Army. I find that hard to believe, but until I rewatch various episodes to check, I'm going by NBC's dossier. _


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: This one took a little longer than I wanted to write. You don't even want to know why. Apologies for that. Things pick up in the next chapter, too, so let's hope that one doesn't take me forever to finish._

_Thanks again to the amazingly awesome readers and reviewers from the last chapter. The standard McDuck disclaimers? They still apply._

_-.-.-.-_

**Day 4: Monday**

Chuck's shift officially ended in a little over an hour. He noted as much when he glanced at the clock before thumping his head on the counter a few times. The immediate feeling that he was going to pass out had abated some time ago, but he still felt a little sick to his stomach. _All I want to do is go home, crawl into bed, and pull the covers over my head._ The odds of that happening, or the odds of being able to leave right at the end of his shift, however, were slim. His premonition earlier in the day about paperwork stack size had proven to be correct: he could no longer see over the counter if he was sitting behind the desk.

The Herders' phone ringing startled Chuck out of his slight comatose state, causing him to jump out of his chair and knock a few stacks of paper over in the process, which he hilariously tried to catch and hold in place with various limbs as he dove for the phone. He ended up laying on top of two stacks of paper to keep them from scattering, used his left knee to keep another from tipping, and had both hands were spread wide on two others. The phone was wedged between his ear and shoulder as soon as he'd answered it, for lack of a free hand.

"Nerd Herd, Bartowski speaking."

"You wouldn't happen to know why my boyfriend isn't answering my calls, would you?"

Sarah's voice was light and teasing, but he could detect the tension underneath. He didn't know whether it made him feel better or worse that she was still as out of it as he was. Knowing that he had to play along, he gave himself a few metaphorical slaps to the face as he tried to find a more comfortable position that wouldn't result in any piles tipping.

"Well, ma'am, from what I hear, an extraordinarily beautiful woman commandeered his cell phone from him yesterday and did not return it."

There was a slight snicker on the other end. It sounded genuine, but it stopped as fast at it had started.

"Commandeered? I think 'fought him for it and he lost' might be a more accurate retelling of that story, mister."

She didn't want to tell him that she had completely forgotten that _she_ had his cell phone. _Damn it, it must still be in my jeans from yesterday_. They were currently unceremoniously sitting in a pile on her hotel room floor. It bothered her that she'd completely forgotten about it. _If I can't even remember that I have his cell phone, what the hell does that say about my ability to keep him safe?_ Her light tone became more forced to mask the worry.

"Why didn't you mention it when you stopped over during lunch? We could have run to get it, sweetie."

He'd realized that he'd forgotten to mention it when he went to call Symantec once he got back to the Buy More and was still cell phone-less. After the gravity of the lunch briefing, though, his cell phone seemed rather trivial.

"We were a little…busy during lunch. It slipped my mind."

She knew full well what they were supposed to be _busy_ doing during his lunch break, and now had to respond appropriately. The fake phone conversation was killing her; in fact, she was considering killing whatever trustworthy soul Beckman had discretely looking into the security of the phone lines. _How hard it is to discern whether or not the phones are illegally tapped? _Not only the lightness of her tone was forced now, but so was the teasing.

"Only a little busy? That's a shame. I thought we were a _lot_ busy."

Her forced delivery didn't escape Chuck's notice. He was starting to feel the same as Sarah, only instead of wanting to kill someone, he wanted to sleep: he was feeling more and more sick the more and more they talked. _Hoooooooooooooold it together, Chuck, come on come on come on, here we go_. He decided to expedite the conversation slightly.

"Hmm, sounds like we're going to have to compare our slightly different versions tonight and see which one of us is correct. Were you calling to request a reenactment for right this minute, or did you have something else in mind, too?"

If she had been standing next to him, she would have kissed him. That was opening she needed to get back to the point of her call. She let the nervousness she was holding in so desperately to come out a little—she needed it for this next bit.

"While the reenactment alone certainly makes the call worthwhile, I had a question, actually."

She paused, both for effect and to get ahold of herself.

"Are Ellie and Devon going to be home tonight?"

Convinced that all of the piles were no longer close to tipping over, he lowered himself back into the chair and thought for a minute. _Crap, what did Ellie say their shift schedules were this week?_ He provided Sarah with his stream of conscious while he tried to remember.

"Uh, wow, I don't know, let me think. Oh, wait wait wait. We were supposed to have the wedding planning meeting tonight, remember? Tonight's the night that Ellie asked us about last Friday, so they should both be off, yeah. Why?"

Sarah hadn't remembered that Ellie had asked about rescheduling for Monday. _God damn it, am I losing my mind? _Her foul mood was becoming worse by the minute.

"I…I was wondering: can we have dinner with your sister and Awesome tonight? I have a surprise, and I really want to tell you all at the same time."

Chuck almost asked her if she was pregnant before he remembered what the surprise probably was. _That would have been extremely smooth._

"Oh, sure—I'll call and tell them. You sure everything's alright?"

"Everything's fine: it's a _good_ surprise, don't worry! Tell them that we'll be there around 6?"

It was just nearing 4pm now. _Looks like I'm working late after all_.

"I'll call them right after we hang up. I'm going to work right up until then, so I'll see you at the Orange Orange right before 6, and we'll drive over together?"

"Sure. I'll see you then, sweetie."

Both of them hung up in tandem and with small, forced smiles on their faces, pointedly avoiding saying the dreaded "l" word for as long as possible.

-.-.-.-

One of Sarah's former partners, Abigail Knox, was the president of a small, top-notch private security firm in Los Angeles. The firm was hiring a new vice president of operations and planning, and the job was the one that Beckman intended for Sarah after she quit the CIA. It was a typical job for former spies: the firm helped clients check and perfect the security of both physical and human capital, and provided the necessary security to rectify any deficiencies. However, because Sarah was supposed to be completely devoid of Agency assistance, she had to get the job the old-fashioned way: interviewing, with no strings pulled by the CIA or NSA.

Beckman had faxed Sarah's resume and the letter ahead to the security firm as soon as Sarah's private brief had ended. Abigail had called less than 10 minutes later, incredulous to see Sarah's job application sitting on her desk. She had insisted on an informal meeting that day, just to talk and catch up. The informal meeting was what Sarah was in the process of sitting through in the middle of the Orange Orange, and had ended up morphing into an impromptu job interview.

Between Knox's personal knowledge of Sarah's skill set from their time working together, and the CIA's "acquiescence" to provide a tersely worded letter of reference that obliquely referenced Sarah's "basic" competence and "above-average" abilities, Sarah knew she had a high probability of getting the job. That did nothing to quell the butterflies in her stomach—the fact that the interview was "real" in itself was unsettling.

What was more unsettling was Sarah's spy radar—it was acutely going off. Sarah sensed a slight bit of skepticism from Knox, and skeptical spies—or ex-spies—asked piercing questions. Talking shop and specifics had gone fine, but there was one looming question left that Sarah had managed to avoid all evening. After all these years, Sarah remembered Knox's tell well enough to notice it, and had the chance to prepare herself for the question that was coming.

"So, we've been dancing around this all night. Why are you leaving the Agency? I know you—you love the life, and you're great at it. Why now?"

_That's the one I was waiting for_. It was also the one she dreaded; she had two options: she could give a canned BS answer, or she could give an actual answer. The former spelled trouble—if the answer sounded too rehearsed, the entire plan would be all for naught as those in the intelligence community realized that everything was an elaborate setup. But, conversely, the latter hit far too close to home. Her current strategy was to channel a little of both and tweak the ratio of BS-to-actual as needed. Sarah gave a little smirk.

"It's a guy. I met him while I was out here…working. He's unbelievable."

_OK, or don't add any BS in there. At least you didn't go spilling the entire thing. Christ._

"And he knows what you really do for a living?"

Sarah gave the answer her and Beckman had decided on.

"He has a very general idea. He knows I work for the government, he knows that it's in non-pencil pusher capacity, he knows I'm in LA for work, and he knows that I could be 'transferred,' as he calls it, at any time."

Knox had listened appreciatively the entire time, but appeared no less skeptical than before.

"You're telling me he knows generally what you do and that you could leave at any point, but he's still around? Sounds too good to be true to me."

"You have no idea."

_And there we go with the low ratio of BS-to-truth again. Stop it!_

"Why now, though? Seems like kind of a rash decision. That's not like you at all."

_Oh, believe me, I know_. The only response she could really offer was coupled with a shrug.

"His sister's getting married soon and we're both in the wedding and have been helping out a lot with the planning. Just…it's put so much in perspective for me."

_That sounded much more convincing in my head_.

Before Knox could respond, Chuck came waltzing into the empty store. His mind had obviously been elsewhere, for he did a double-take when he saw Sarah sitting with someone.

"Oh, oh, I'm so sorry! I didn't realize you had a meeting! You did say 6ish, though, right? Of course you did, I'm just early and didn't call before I came over, so that's my fault. I'll…," he pointed back toward the door with both hands from several angles while he backpedaled, "…yeah, outside."

Throughout Chuck's rambling apology, Sarah's smirk had grown to a genuine, full grin. She hadn't noticed that it was nearly 6:00 already, but she hadn't anticipated the meeting taking almost 2 hours. She also didn't realize how much she needed a dose of unfiltered Chuck until right then. The foul mood present most of the day was all but forgotten for the time being.

"No, it's fine. You don't have to wait outside. I think we're almost done…?"

Abigail just nodded, doing a poor job of concealing her surprise at the grin across Sarah's face or the mystery man standing just inside the door. Chuck was looking somewhat sheepishly at Sarah with a slight grin on his face before he seemed to remember something. It wasn't until he had crossed the small distance to where they were sitting to plant a light kiss on her lips that Sarah realized what it was that he remembered.

_Shit, the surveillance. Ugh._ The quick kiss at least served the purpose of continuing to mitigate the bad mood.

"You sure you're OK? You sounded really strange on the phone earlier."

The question was unnatural, but the underlying concern was real as he rested his forehead against hers for a minute.

"I told you, I'm fine. And now you can see for yourself, too, I'm fine!"

"Uhhhhhhhhhh huh, sure."

Rolling her eyes, Sarah made the introductions as Chuck straightened out.

"This is a friend of mine, Abigail Knox. She and I used to work together."

Chuck raised an eyebrow as he offered his hand.

"Another yogurt server?"

It earned him an elbow in the thigh from Sarah and a rare laugh from Abigail as she shook it while answering.

"Yes, another yogurt server."

"I'm Sarah's boyfriend, Chuck. It's so nice to meet you."

"You know, sweetie, I'm fully capable of introducing you to my friends."

Chuck turned his attention back to Sarah, who was shooting him a kidding glare after commenting.

"I don't get to meet many people you work with. I didn't know if you'd remember to introduce me."

"Excuse me, when have I ever forgotten to introduce you?"

…_crap, has she ever forgotten to introduce me?_

"Oh, you know. That time. When the guy was doing something with that thing and asked you about the what's-it-called. You _completely_ forgot to introduce me."

"Because, clearly, you remember the exact circumstances."

Exasperated, he looked to Abigail for help.

"You see what I have to deal with, here? I think working with all this frozen food is making her memory selective. There's a _reason_ I introduced myself."

The ex-spy had been silently watching the banter with increasing incredulity and was surprised to be roped back into the conversation.

"You know the yogurt industry. We're a crafty bunch."

_So, Sarah's coworker: not a stellar conversationalist. Did she really used to be a spy? I thought all spies had to be good at small talk._ Chuck was spared from having to wonder anymore when Abigail stood up and tidied the few papers she had brought.

"You guys obviously have your own craftiness to attend to tonight, so I'll just duck out now. And, Sarah, what we were talking about? It's absolutely yours. I'll call you tomorrow to firm up details."

Surprised by Abigail's sudden acquiescence, Sarah quickly rose to shake the now proffered hand. She could find no hint of Abigail's previous skepticism._ How the hell did we just go from near interrogation session to job offer?_

"That's great! I'll talk to you tomorrow, then."

Abigail soundlessly left the store, looking back only once to confirm that she didn't imagine what she'd just witnessed. Once the door clicked shut, Chuck spun fully toward Sarah with a panicked look on his face.

"Please please please tell me that you aren't mad at me for introducing myself. It just…happened."

She had to laugh, despite her mood.

"No, I'm not mad at you. It was just funny, that's all. Relax."

The last word hung in the air, unbidden and unwelcome. The stifling tension from earlier was back: Chuck started to shift from foot to foot again before he remembered that they were probably being watched, and had to settle for drumming his hand against the back of Sarah's chair. Ready to cut off his fingers after only a few seconds of the drumming, she got up to gather her things with a fake smile plastered on her face the whole time, her tone emotionless as she give Chuck the details about tonight.

"Tonight I'm announcing to Ellie and Awesome that I'm leaving the CIA, essentially. The idea is that if someone's eavesdropping on your place, announcing that sort of news to civilians signals that the plan is no joke. For the story I'll be telling them, you only have a general idea of what it is I do: you don't know that I really work for the CIA, and you don't know what I do. You only know that it's for the government and that I could be reassigned at any time. You need to act appropriately surprised and play along with whatever comes up."

"…oooooooooooooooook, I can do that. Why can't you just tell me everything now?"

She slightly smiled at the answer before giving it.

"Because you being surprised is a reaction that can't be faked, even by you."

Chuckling, Chuck leaned on the table Abigail and Sarah had just vacated and watched Sarah move around the store. After doing so for a few seconds, he spoke up.

"What's really bothering you about tonight?"

Focusing on the store security procedures, she wasn't sure she'd been able to mask the pause she'd unconsciously taken once he'd finished speaking. Something was indeed bothering her about tonight, but she didn't have time to explain. _I still can't have this conversation with him now. It's still going to result in me being a mess._

"Can we talk about this later? Now's still not a good time."

He sullenly nodded, impressively managing to toss in a twist of "oh, this sooooooooooo isn't over" as he pushed off from the table. It was her turn to look at him for a few seconds before she spoke up as they walked toward the door.

"Promise me something, though, Chuck."

"Anything, you know that."

She gave him a sad look and took a deep breath, making sure that her back was to the windows when she spoke.

"Remind me that I still work for the CIA tomorrow morning."

-.-.-.-

"Would you sit already? You look like you're trapped in a game of Pong!"

Sarah had been pacing back and forth from the kitchen to the front door since they'd gotten back to his place. Ellie and Awesome had gotten off shift at the top of the hour, but the inevitable traffic and commute meant they weren't home yet. The waiting was driving her mad. Chuck was in his room, checking on the virus code. From the dearth of news, she assumed that he had still found nothing.

"You can't even _see_ me right now, how do you know what I look like?"

When she turned around again to walk back toward the kitchen, she was startled to find him a few feet away, standing right where she'd been a moment ago with a smile on his face. _Damn it, I didn't even hear him. Either he's getting sneakier or I'm totally out of it_. She was willing to bet it was a bit of both, which didn't improve her mood.

The doctors walking in the front door interrupted the glib remark undoubtedly coming from Chuck. Both were surprised to see takeout waiting in the kitchen and the other couple standing near the front door. Ellie was the first to move, hugging Sarah while talking.

"Sarah…hi! It's great to see you as always, but did we have dinner plans for tonight? I'm just making sure I'm not forgetting anything…this is spontaneous, right? I feel like this wedding's making me lose my mind!"

_No, it's me that's been forgetting everything lately, don't worry. That mantle is solidly mine for the foreseeable future._ Sarah felt Chuck step closer behind her as the hug ended so he could whisper without being blatantly overheard.

"Sorry, I did call them both—I got their voicemail and left them each a message. Neither must have checked it."

Silently processing this, Sarah compensated.

"No no, you're not forgetting anything. This is completely spontaneous. I just had a surprise—a bit of news, really—and asked Chuck if I could come over tonight so I could tell you all."

The words "surprise" and "news" made Ellie's ears perk up. Takeout food long forgotten, she pulled Awesome toward an armchair and motioned wildly with her hands that Sarah should continue with whatever she intended to say. Sarah's plan had been to get everyone to eat first—_and get them slightly intoxicated_—before she announced anything to make it a little easier, but from the way Ellie was gesturing, that plan was _gestured_ out the window. _Fine—telling them before dinner works. Let's get this over with._ Pulling Chuck along toward the couch, Sarah did as she was implicitly being ordered.

"You all have to promise not to interrupt until after I get all the news out. Chuck doesn't even know what it is."

Ellie and Awesome shot each other a puzzled look before turning back to Sarah and nodding cautiously as Ellie sat in one of the chairs and Awesome perched on its arm. In the meantime, Sarah was looking at Chuck as they settled in on the couch side by side, silently pleading with him to trust her on this one. He moved closer to her on the couch, left arm stretching behind her, right hand finding hers as he nodded his assent. _I can't believe I'm really doing this. Now or never_. Taking a deep breath, she took the plunge.

"I'm not really a yogurt worker. I work for the government, and while I can't tell you what it is that I do, that alone should be a pretty big hint. That can't leave this room, or else I'll be in serious trouble."

Ellie and Awesome's faces were priceless—the beginnings of shock and awe were beginning to form—but Chuck was starting to freak out again. _…I can't believe Beckman cleared Sarah to tell them _that_ much. Oh my God oh my God oh my God…_ Sarah could feel Chuck tense up and squeezed his hand before Ellie and Awesome noticed. With the way he squeezed back, they'd be lucky if they both had functional fingers tomorrow. She continued before the atmosphere she'd managed to create was broken.

"I've been on assignment here in LA for the past two years for a project. Pretty soon, that project's going to be done and I'll be transferred somewhere else, or at least how that's how it's supposed to go."

Panic now crossed Ellie's face, and she looked like she was ready to say something. Sarah noted as much and preempted her.

"BUT, things have…changed. I quit my job today."

She said it so matter-of-factly that Chuck would have missed the punch line if he didn't already know what it was. It took Ellie and Awesome a few seconds to catch up, but once they did, Ellie let out a squeal that no one could have suppressed; Casey was probably deaf. Awesome looked at Chuck and Sarah and mouthed "AWESOME!" while the squeal continued. Once it stopped, Ellie bounced up and down in the chair, barely able to contain her excitement.

Sarah was debating how much more to say. As it was, the story she'd decided on with Beckman was a little too close to the truth, but she'd at least avoided saying anything that was _extremely_ true. _…and we're going to keep it that way—screw orders. Wrap it up with something vague, Walker._

"I've already found a new place to work here in LA and I start soon, so I'm kind of excited. And that's…it. I just really wanted to tell you all at once."

…_that was so anti-climatic. They're going to be all over me._

Instead of wrapping Sarah up in a hug, Ellie stopped bouncing long enough to look accusingly at a surprised and speechless Chuck.

"CHUCK! Did you know Sarah worked for the government!"

He was still trying to get his mind around the fact that Sarah had a new job already. _When did_ that_ happen?_ Ellie had to yell his name again before he snapped out of his trace. Looking over to Sarah for support, their talk at the Orange Orange suddenly came racing back. _Oh, right, playing along…_

"Yeah, I kind of knew. She tol…"

A throw pillow thumping across his face shocked him into silence. Ellie continued the assault, with Sarah trying to stifle her laughter as Chuck reacted as any younger sibling would: he instinctively curled into a ball with an impulsive girlish scream.

"YOU KNEW! How could you let us think that Sarah was only a yogurt server when she was doing something VERY VERY IMPORTANT!"

Thumping him a few more times to drive home her point, Ellie sat back down, pillow at the ready. She was expecting a _very_ good explanation. Cautiously peering out from between his arms, he slowly uncurled once he saw Ellie had retreated and shot her a look. Unable to contain it any longer, Sarah burst out laughing and came to his aid, her right hand absently moving to the back of his neck to play with his hair.

"It's not his fault, Ellie. I told him he couldn't tell anyone—he wasn't even supposed to know, but he has a way of being…disarming."

As soon of the words were out of her mouth, she knew it was a mistake. Ellie was gleefully bouncing again and had the "time for girl talk!" look on her face. Sarah didn't really _do_ girl talk (nor did she _want_ to partake in any girl talk), particularly about this topic…and especially did not want to do girl talk when the topic of the talk would most certainly be the man sitting next to her. _At least if Chuck wasn't sitting RIGHT here it wouldn't be as bad._

"Just _how_ disarming is my adorable younger brother, hmmm?"

_Oh. shit. Here we go with the extremely true answers. Damn it, why didn't you just give a little more to deter them from THIS particular line of questioning!_ Stubborn to the last, Sarah managed to hedge a bit, though the sizeable smile that snuck out spoke volumes.

"Disarming enough to make a career government worker quit so she could stay here with him."

His voice was quiet and awe-filled as he spoke as if they were the only two in the room.

"You quit…for me?"

She could only nod, trying her best to swallow the lump in her throat. Chuck was playing his part—_if he's playing anything at all right now—_too well. _This is not going in a good direction. _Leaning over so their foreheads touched, his voice was still a whisper.

"You know you didn't have to do that. I know how much you love your job, and we talked about this exact issue before we dated."

_Shit. This is EXACTLY what I wanted to avoid._ She had a funny suspicion that this would be exactly how the conversation would sound if it happened for real.

"I know. I wanted to."

Comprehension dawned on Ellie's face, saving them from themselves as the words gushed out of her mouth.

"Oh my God! That's what Chuck meant yesterday when he was talking about the 'things beyond our control,' wasn't it? Sarah's job…that's why you guys couldn't get engaged!"

Both Chuck and Sarah had the same thought: _leave it to Ellie to make that connection in no time at all_. Rather than responding directly, the small smiles on both of their faces as Sarah buried her blushing face in Chuck's shoulder seemed to confirm it, sending Ellie into another round of the squeals, coupled with rapid clapping.

"Looks like you two _can_ get engaged after all!"

Chuck's eyes went wide, and he could hear Sarah kiddingly mutter "unbelievable" into his shoulder before kissing his jaw lightly. He had to agree—only Ellie. Making direct eye contact with Awesome, Chuck clearly communicated his message without so much as a head tilt as both men watched Ellie bounce higher and higher out of the corner of their eyes. If she went much higher, she would go through the ceiling. It also didn't bode well for her next set of questions: Chuck wouldn't put it past her to ask about nieces and nephews. Awesome placed his hands on Ellie's shoulders to stop the bouncing, if only temporarily.

"Well you two, that. is. AWESOME. How about we have dinner while we talk about the rest, hmm?"

Without being prompted, Ellie bounced out of her chair and was prancing around the kitchen in no time, occasionally breaking out into song. The others shot one another worried glances before tentatively heading toward the kitchen to help. Dinner—with copious amounts of alcohol to stem any more questions—was followed by a movie ("NO WEDDINGS," Chuck and Sarah had practically yelled simultaneously when Awesome had asked if they had a movie preference, causing everyone to laugh after a beat had passed). An intoxicated Ellie and Awesome were spread out on the couch, and Chuck and Sarah had taken up residence in one of the armchairs, managing to find a somewhat comfortable position with Sarah curled up against Chuck's chest. Half of the movie had passed before a sober Chuck leaned over to whisper to a just-as-sober Sarah.

"I don't think I've ever seen you relaxed this before."

She raised her head off his shoulder enough to look at him before snuggling closer with a smile on her face. The person peering in the front window, clad in different shades of black, took note.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Decided to crank it up a notch and get this chapter done early, because Lord knows what 19MAY will hold in store for the _Chuck_ faithful. I figured that we'll stock up on pleasant surprises now in case Tuesday is not so pleasant. (Though TV Guide's website gave me a rather motivating kick in the pants to get a LOT of this chapter done last night with their unofficial announcement, so they deserve a big thanks.)_

_The readers and reviewers from last chapter continue to be awesome (I guilted myself into writing faster by not writing thank yous for last chapter's reviewers, but they're coming soon!), just like the usual disclaimers continue to apply_.

-.-.-.-

**Day 5: Tuesday**

The tranquility of the early morning stood in stark contrast to the chaos of Sarah's thoughts as she lay in bed. She was still trying to regroup from last night, not knowing what to think. The revelation to Ellie and Awesome was supposed to be staged, solidifying their new cover, but it had evolved into a very real evening. Chuck's comment about how relaxed she'd been while watching the movie was the epitome of the realness—she didn't _remember_ ever feeling that relaxed before. Making a pointed decision to ignore what that meant professionally and instead enjoy the rest of the night with her fake-real boyfriend, the comment was harder to ignore in the daylight. Daylight also wasn't helping the lines become any less blurred. The more time she spent around him, no matter how adamantly she told herself to stay on task, the more both of them interacted genuinely…much to her chagrin.

To reinforce her point, Chuck shifted a bit in his sleep, causing her to smile without thinking about it as she continued to play mindlessly with his curls. Somehow, they'd shifted in their sleep so that Chuck was currently using her stomach as a pillow. Staying the night provided a perfect example of the various dilemmas associated with their fake-real interactions. For personal self-preservation, she had secretly hoped to find an excuse to avoid sleeping over, but the agent in her knew there was no way around it from a cover perspective—how could she _not_ stay the night after everything she'd revealed without looking suspicious? Ellie and Awesome, in their slightly sloshed state, had even assumed as much, telling Chuck and Sarah that they'd cook breakfast in the morning before work. Luckily for her, once she had returned to his room from showering (extra-cold again to clear her head), Chuck had unintentionally fallen sound asleep, saving them from having to concoct either a really good excuse or a really good performance—again, after the sort of announcement she'd made and Chuck's reaction to it, going straight to bed would look suspicious. Thinking about anything remotely in the ballpark of the horizontal mambo (as Casey would put it) made her shudder. _God, there's yet another thing we're going to have to deal with eventually. How does one "deal" with sex?_

She threw her head back against the pillow and took a few deep breaths. _Damn it. There's just so much to deal with at once._ About to give herself the normal get-your-head-in-the-game, one-thing-at-a-time pep-talk, movement outside Chuck's window caught her eye. A silhouette was clearly visible on the window blinds, and the silhouette appeared to be attempting to act stealthy…with little success. It was all she could do to keep from laughing and alerting the person. _You've got to be kidding me. Are these people _really _this horrible at unobtrusive observation? _She almost expected a head, clad in a stereotypical ski mask, to pop through the window for a better look and listen.

Chuck's alarm clock going off brought her focus from the lurker outside the room to the other occupant inside of the room. He sat up and smacked the clock faster than she thought possible before settling back down in his previous position and began rubbing his eyes. A moment later, he tensed—Sarah guessed that he had noticed _where_ his previous position was—and was about to say something to preempt him from moving or saying anything too Chuck-esque because of their uninvited guest outside the window. As quickly as he had tensed, though, he slightly relaxed.

Truth be told, Chuck _had_ noticed the person outside of the window mere seconds after he realized what he was using as a pillow and was about to apologize profusely for his unconscious nocturnal shifting. _Really, can we not catch a break? I JUST WOKE UP!_ He forced himself to relax as he reluctantly began playing his NSA-mandated role. Kissing her tanktop-clad stomach lightly, he turned his head so he was looking up at her instead of down toward the window.

"Good morning, beautiful."

Moving toward her with a grin on his face, which spread to her face immediately, she closed her eyes in anticipation of a kiss and was instead rewarded with things becoming darker. Her eyes popped open to find the comforter over their heads and Chuck whispering scant inches away.

"OK, now we can talk. No one hears or sees through an inch of goose-down comforter!"

She was tempted to knee him in the stomach—she was _not_ appreciative of Chuck's non-kiss—and replied in an intense whisper to waylay the urge.

"Do you really think this looks convincing?"

"I don't know, you're the superspy, you tell me. _Does_ this look convincing?"

Without warning, she flipped Chuck over so that he was now pinned to the mattress, with Sarah skillfully hovering a few inches above him everywhere. The comforter miraculously stayed in place.

"This does look a bit more convincing, yes. Flail your legs a bit."

"Am I supposed to be acting like a flopping fish or making out under here, because I feel like we're confusing the two."

"You wanted to talk, Chuck?"

He rolled his eyes while moving his legs around as instructed, paying close attention not to bump into her.

"First, as a reminder—you still work for the CIA."

_Great, thanks for that, Chuck. You're making me feel really _great_ about the day ahead._ It took her another moment to remember that she'd made him promise the night before to remind her. Overwhelmed by his uncanny ability to be incredibly thoughtful, she was too busy suppressing the unbelievable urge to kiss him to respond.

"Now, want to tell me what was bothering you about last night?"

His gaze was piercing enough as he spoke that she nearly did answer before stopping herself. _Nope, not going here right now, especially with me on top of him like this. Nope nope nope nope nope…_

"Come on, it's time to get up or else we'll both be late."

Beginning to get up, she was surprised to feel Chuck's arm wrap around her waist and pull her back down, effectively pinning her to him. The small buffer that Sarah had been careful to keep between them was all but eliminated; it was no coincidence that the temperature underneath the comforter suddenly felt like it had increased tenfold.

"Fine, you can listen while I talk, then. Here's what bothers _me_ about last night. We both knew it was fake conversation, and we both ended up acting and feeling like it was real. That same thing keeps happening over and over—it's a cover, we both know it, but it feels _so _real, and we both act real before we can stop it. That results in us feeling guilty for different reasons. It kind of sucks, and that doesn't even deal fully with our problem with the slips."

Her jaw dropped. _He has a way of being articulate at the most inopportune times, damn his adorable self._

"Fine, yes, that's a big part of what was bothering me about last night. It's harder than I thought it would be, alright?"

"It's not going to get any easier unless you actually talk to me, your double fake-real boyfriend, about it."

"I know. But I'm bad at fake-real relationship talks…I still don't know what to even say about it other than I'm suppressing the urge to kiss the living hell of you right now."

His eyes grew to the size of saucers and she took a moment to turn her eyes upward and marvel at her lack of control. She hadn't intended on the last bit slipping out. _Goddamn proximity. And people outside of windows. And weddings._ He cleared his throat once or twice, bringing her eyes back down to focus on his face, which still had a look of determination on it from when he'd stopped her from moving before.

"Then just kiss me for now to satisfy the guy outside and we'll try to make everything feel less real until we can talk somewhere safe."

_That is DEFINITELY not a good idea_, and she said as much aloud. His response was typical.

"Again, do you have a better one?"

She didn't, and he took the opportunity to catch her offguard by leaning up to kiss her. Just when they were about to kiss, the quintessential ring of a cell phone startled them. While she was contemplating banning all cell phones, he was the first to make a comment against her still-parted lips.

"I'll have you note that it's _your_ cell phone killing the mood this time, not mine."

Sarah only responded by capturing his lips while rolling them over to her side of the bed, knocking the comforter askew while blindly reaching for her phone on the nightstand. Finally breaking their lung-searing kiss to answer, she let out a small sigh and sat up straighter upon hearing who was on the other end, forcing Chuck to sit up as well. Sensing that the call wasn't going to be a quick one, Chuck shook the stupor out of his head—_you're the one that told her to kiss you, moron, and you KNOW that most of our kisses pack that much punch…_—before rolling back over to his side of the bed. He got up to get dressed as the phone conversation continued on.

It wasn't until Chuck was tweaking his tie in the mirror that Sarah's conversation ended and he turned to face her. She looked and sounded less than amused, but he couldn't tell if it was because of the _timing_ of the call or the _content_ of the call. _…or the fact that there's STILL someone outside my window_—he had noticed the lurker hadn't moved while fiddling with his tie in the mirror, and was sure that Sarah noticed it as well. _Go go fake conversation following fake…ish make-out session!_, he thought.

"Do you have plans for tonight, sweetie, or does Big Mike have you closing the store?"

"Nope, not closing—work until 6. I figured we were doing something after that."

"I figured as much, too, but it's not going to be doi..."

About to say, "doing anything like this," agent mode resurfaced long enough to kill the sentence before it was uttered aloud. She settled for a sigh to punctuate the sentence as she watched Chuck sit down at his computer to examine what progress, if any, his automated programs had made on the virus code. Glancing over his shoulder to where she was still sitting in bed, he patiently waited for an explanation. Eventually, she gave him one.

"That was Abigail. She wants to have us over tonight for a small dinner party so I can 'informally' meet the upper management before I start next week."

_Wow_, Chuck thought,_ note to self: never piss off the CIA. They leave you jobless within a week if you quit…assuming they don't kill you when you quit._ Sticking his Nerd Herd ID in his pocket as he swiveled back and forth in his chair while scrolling through pages of code, something about her sentence struck him.

"Wait, 'we'? I was explicitly invited?"

Sarah smirked while she got up to root through her overnight bag, perpetually stashed in Chuck's closet.

"Yes, she mentioned you by name...several times. Should I be worried?"

"Only about her if she tries to put any moves on me tonight. You'll probably leave her bound and gagged in a coat closet."

Looking behind her at the man smirking from his computer chair, she pretended to contemplate his assertion before shaking her head.

"Not true. She's my new boss—I'd leave her in an unoccupied room, not a coat closet."

He laughed as he pushed off from his desk, sending his chair wheeling across the room toward his closet, where he surprised her by pulling her down into his lap. Steadily rolling back over toward the desk, the click of the wheels on the hardwood floor masked what he was whispering in her ear as he tipped his head toward the computer monitor.

"Still nothing. I think this definitely had to be written by a few different people, because the coding style keeps changing around. That matches with the multinational coalition thing. I'm going to start analyzing the virus as separate pieces to see if that gets us anywhere."

Making a mental note to pass on Chuck's news to Beckman, he spoke in a normal tone while he finished up on the computer.

"Hey, you mind if I run over to your place to grab my phone before I go to work?"

_Where the hell did THAT come from?_ With the look she gave him, it was as if he had asked her for a letter of recommendation to work for the CIA. He hastened to give his rationale.

"What? Your shift starts before mine, and you're not going to have time to drive me across town to your place and make it to work on time. I promise not to read the super-secret government employees' handbook under your pillow. I just want my phone before my girlfriend accuses me of not returning her calls again, and since she can kick my ass, I think my concern is valid."

Biting her lip through her smile, she thought about it. Him being alone in her apartment did make her a little uncomfortable. _He does have a point about driving across town and making it to work on time. And, seeing as I've officially chosen him over my career and that we're supposed to be moving in together…_

"That's fine. Your phone's still in the jeans I was wearing Sunday, I think. I'll call the front desk and make them let you in so we won't have to key swap later."

Sarah happened to look down at her watch, with Chuck unintentionally doing the same as he glanced at his computer monitor again. He did a double-take when he saw the time and started babbling.

"Oh crap, you're right—we're going to be late. I'll go see what Ellie cooked for breakfast and toss a plate together for each of us to eat while you finish getting dressed without me, uh, slowing you down."

With a slight eyebrow waggle, Chuck had effortlessly stood them both up, hands lightly on her hips to steady her, and was heading toward the kitchen before she could reply. She walked over to shut the door before changing, and turned back toward the window with a non-forced smile on her face.

The smile did not escape the notice of the non-stealthy lurker.

-.-.-.-

Hesitantly poking his head into her room once he'd opened Sarah's front door a crack, the rest of Chuck's body soon followed as he tiptoed across the room to retrieve his cell phone from the heap of clothing that Sarah described. Turning it on and flipping through his missed calls and texts—he had now missed 17 calls from Morgan—one of the texts gave him pause.

He read it twice to make sure he wasn't seeing things. Breaking out into a small grin, he fished the business card from yesterday out of his pocket and started dialing after making sure to lock the door behind him. The phone conversation was brief, finishing by the time he reached the elevator, but he couldn't help but read the text message one more time before deleting it and making a few more calls.

_Congratulations on the new job._

_- DB_

_-.-.-.-_

A short phone call before lunch—Chuck had taken the day off, he said, and therefore couldn't run over to the Orange Orange to talk—had firmed up their plans for that evening. They were to meet at Sarah's place before the party at Abigail's, because of its proximity to Abigail's—it was closer—and because conversations within it could not be electronically monitored by anyone. The break from possible audio surveillance would allow them to talk and plan the evening without fear of being overheard. It would be a nice change from their new life-as-normal.

Sarah was slipping into her dress when she heard the distinctive knock at the door and yelled for Chuck to come in. Despite Knox's assurance that this was an "informal" dinner, Sarah knew better. It wasn't a black tie affair, but it was far from a skirt-and-khakis sort of dinner. Accordingly, Sarah had chosen a knee length, navy blue dress that almost looked like a sundress, if the fabric hadn't been a very high-quality satin. Thinking about the implied dress code triggered a thought. _I wonder what Chuck wore._ She had planned to talk to him about it over lunch before he'd called to say he wouldn't be over, and had forgotten to mention it before they hung up. Hearing the door open and shut, she looked herself over one last time in the mirror before watching for Chuck's reflection in the mirror.

When Chuck entered her line of sight, she did a double take at what she saw: he was in a three-button black suit coat, black pants, a striped dark blue and black shirt, and an impeccably knotted white tie. He was nervously looking down at his shiny shoes while running his hands over his suit coat as he walked further into the room, oblivious to the fact that she was staring at him.

"Hey, is this dressy enough for tonight, or should I go change?"

She couldn't help but continue to stare at him. _Change into WHAT, a tux with coattails!_

"Oh, uh, _no_, that's, uh…fine."

_Are we _teenagers _again? Stop drooling and USE COMPLETE SENTENCES!_ The quick mental slap produced a coherent follow-up as she allowed herself to look him up and down one more time before he noticed her all but devouring him on sight.

"I definitely don't remember _that_ being in your closet this morning."

He was still completely oblivious while he answered, continuing to fidget.

"Yeah, well, I finally looked at how much the NSA paid me for the virus stuff. Let's just say that I decided to finally invest in some good dress clothes so I wou…"

His sentence trailed off as he finally stopped fidgeting with his own clothes and looked up to see Sarah checking over her makeup one last time.

"Wow. You look…_great_."

He said it in such an awe-filled tone that the best she could muster was a very shy-sounding thank you. When Sarah reached for her earrings, Chuck seemed to remember something.

"Oh, right. Also while I was out dress clothes shopping today, I realized that I've bought you _no_ jewelry at all since we've been 'together,' which probably makes me look as a complete failure as a boyfriend."

A necklace box and earring box materialized from Chuck's pockets and he held them up for Sarah to see in the mirror.

"So, consider these as the beginning of me not failing."

Turning to face him finally, her eyes critically shifted from each box before looking back at his face.

"You know you didn't have to do this."

"To steal a line from you—I know, I wanted to. And you deserve it."

Waving both boxes enticingly, she relented and chose the necklace box first. Opening it revealed a tasteful diamond necklace. Eyes flicking back up to his, she could see the worry in his eyes. _He _really_ thinks I might not like this? _The corners of her mouth tugged upward as she gave him a peck on the lips before offering him the necklace and turning back to the mirror. Tucking the earring box under his chin to free up both hands, he wrestled with the clasp, and before long he had the necklace open so that he could loop it around her neck. As he successfully latched the clasp, she was looking at the necklace in the mirror, rather incredulous at his general taste when shopping.

"I can't believe you went shopping without female supervision and did this well."

His reflection shrugged as his head peeked over her shoulder, but the relief on his face was evident. _Thank God she likes it._

"I'm not a completely incompetent shopper. And who said I didn't have female supervision?"

Her eyes had narrowed and were in the process of boring holes through his.

"Totally kidding. I shopped alone—Ellie was on call today, and you had to work, too."

With her eyes no longer boring holes through his head, they continued to look at one another wordlessly. Remembering the box tucked under his chin by seeing it in the mirror, he removed it and handed it to her. Taking a step closer behind her as she opened it, she was stunned to find something other than earrings in the earring box. It was an engagement ring. Her hand flew over her mouth and eyes went wide. _HOLY SHIT!_

"I suppose if we're being watched, I'd need to formally get down like this."

Her head whipped around toward him as he dropped to one knee, her voice mimicking him by dropping to a whisper. She was trying her best to hold it together—the necklace she could handle. The ring was in a league of its own.

"Why are you doing this now?"

"We're going to a big dinner with the new 'upper management' who've _probably_ heard a lot about the amazing Sarah Walker—I'm assuming that these people are all ex-spies. I bet they'll find it hard to believe that the same Sarah Walker would throw away her career for some guy. Ergo, if you walk in engaged after quitting a day ago, they might be more convinced."

_I didn't even think about that angle. Shit._ Abigail's skepticism at Orange Orange suddenly made much more sense…as did her sudden acquiescence. _I think I may be officially losing it…AND I owe my job to Chuck. Unbelievable._ Her voice dropped so low that Chuck had to strain to hear her next question.

"How real is this?"

"As real as you want it to be," he paused while a self-deprecating smile crept out, "but at least I know you've been ordered to say fake-yes, so that makes it a little easier."

"Chuck, you know I can't say real-yes. We talked about this a little this morning, but Beckman's brief to me yesterday made it abundantly clear that she considers this an extension of our current cover. If she were to find out…"

She hadn't told him how Beckman had none-too-subtly explained the new exit strategy if Sarah were to "become" compromised: Sarah's death would be faked without notifying Chuck to "keep their new cover intact," and Sarah would be living on a comfortable government pension completely alone in Samoa until the day she _really_ died. Suffice it to say, her incentive to request reassignment was non-existent.

"How would she be able to tell the difference? We're barely able to, and even that's arguable."

_Point to Chuck…damn it._ She said as much aloud, trying hard to keep her expressions in line with the joy and exuberance she was supposed to be feeling.

"Damn it, Chuck. You know what my answer would be if things were different."

Sighing, she gave her answer as she pulled him up for the embrace that would have to follow: the moment had to look "real" for anyone possibly spying on them.

"Fake-yes, which you knew. Real-...damn it again—we're still all over the map for this new cover and it worries me more than you know."

The non-answer didn't surprise Chuck, but the allusion to her feelings about their new cover did. _That's the closest she's come to talking about any of this._ Not wanting to push the issue for now, he fished the ring out of its box and babbled as he slipped it on her ring finger.

"I'm trying to chatter about anything and nothing so this doesn't feel too real. So, if you just want me to shut up, say the word and I'll zi…"

_OK, here we go, Walker. You just got FAKE engaged. Quick kiss to seal the deal, and then out the door to the party. _Planting her hands on either side of his face, she pulled him in for a kiss, cutting him off in midsentence. The moment was more real than either anticipated, with the one "quick" kiss growing into a much longer one, followed by lighter kisses after. Heading back toward the bed instinctively as Chuck's hands rose to cradle Sarah's face and neck, Chuck's knees hitting the edge of the bed prompted a gasped sentence.

"If this goes much farther, I'm going to mess up your lipstick…again."

"If this goes much farther," she looked over his shoulder at the bed before looking back at him, "we won't make the party…"

_And I might just tear all his clothes off. God damn it to hell, what happened to QUICK kiss?_

"…so we better get out of here."

He nodded his agreement, and both were walking out the door while giving the other a wide berth before they could reconsider.

-.-.-.-

The car ride over had been tense, but far from silent. Cognizant of the tension, both had stayed on their respective sides of the car while Sarah gave Chuck the general details about her new job, as any good girlfriend would: she was now the VP of Operations and Planning for Fort Knox Security. Aside from the wisecrack about the firm's name, Chuck had few real questions that he could ask in public (_I can't believe the interior of a Porsche now qualifies as "in public,"_ he thought), so he'd nodded and asked fake ones about general things, as any good boyfriend would.

Once they'd arrived and had rung the doorbell, they were standing far too close together as they waited Abigail to answer the door. Chuck tugged at his tie before straightening it again for the umpteenth time since they'd rung, Sarah acutely noting his fidgeting and the fact that his hand was hovering near the small of her back, but not quite touching. After being prepared to tackle him only 15 minutes before, the not-quite touching was nearly as distracting as touching would be.

"Would you stop fidgeting with your tie already? You look fine."

He muttered a response without thinking, tugging at his collar—it suddenly seemed far too tight—as he answered.

"Easy for you to say. You're not the one standing next to the most beautiful woman in the world."

She bit the side of her cheek while turning her head enough to catch his eye.

"Not. helping."

The massive set of double doors swung open to reveal Abigail, dressed similarly to Sarah, who ushered them in warmly and was appropriately stunned by their engagement. With Abigail introducing them to the three other vice presidents—all women, Chuck noted—pre-dinner mingling and dinner was as painless as it could be with a roomful of ex-spies; talk about work dominated. Chuck held up fairly well, given that he was out of his element. He stayed uncharacteristically silent for most of the night, commenting where needed, and the few super-nerdy jokes that he did make were perfectly timed and well received.

After dinner, everyone adjourned to the sitting room for drinks, where the other women were slowly starting to talk about families and significant others with one another. Feeling his cell phone vibrate in his suit coat pocket, Chuck pulled it out enough to see he had a text message, sent from his computer to his cell when the computer believed it had found something regarding the virus. He felt Sarah's eyes on him, and spoke loud enough for the others to hear, if they so desired.

"Sorry, it's work. I'll be right back."

Walking into the hallway just outside of the sitting room, Chuck heard one of the others ask Sarah where she had met him. Tempted to listen to her answer to see if it involved cell phones and ballerinas, he forced himself to focus on the reason he'd come out into the hallway in the first place and began scrolling through the text message. Splitting the virus code into parts was working better than he expected, with the computer already isolating different chunks of the overall code that could have been written by different people. Glancing over one particularly inventive piece of code, he felt the familiar onset of a flash, and leaned up against the wall before it hit: a maple tree, the inventive piece of code, the coder's dossier, the seal of the CIA, a maple tree. The coder's dossier was huge, and he had to blink a few times before the haze of the flash lifted.

…_oh great, this coder's ex-CIA—Bill Gates meets James Bond? …Bill Bond? _He shook his head a few more times to make sure his mind was clear before pocketing his cell phone and walking back into the room in time to hear the Sarah mentioning that Chuck worked with computers for a living. The others were talking amongst themselves once she'd finished.

"Wow, what Chuck does sounds a lot like that one client of ours…what's his name? Quinn, Quigley…?"

"Quentin Reed?"

"Yeah, Quentin Reed. We provide security for his office downtown, and he does a bunch of computer stuff."

The flash hit this time just as Chuck sat back down next to Sarah: a circus tent, Reed's picture, the logo of Reed Associates, a list of contracted projects that Reed Associates had completed for various government agencies, a circus tent. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly as the intel from both flashes uncharacteristically melded together.

Sarah noticed the flash itself, and the other women in the room had noticed Chuck's eyes snapping tightly shut. When Chuck opened his eyes, he found five sets of seasoned ex-spy eyes on him, passively probing. Sarah's hand had found his once he sat back down, and she was squeezing it hard enough to kickstart Chuck's brain again. _Think of an excuse FAST!_

"I'm sorry, everyone—that message from work was the signing bonus for my new job. It's a little bigger than I'm used to, that's all. I'm still in shock!"

Sarah's own shock was genuine. _WHAT new job!_

"What new job, Chuck?"

The amusement on everyone else's face except Sarah's was evident. Chuck thought back to when he mentioned it to her before he realized that he never had. _Oh crap. I'm so dead._

"The one with Symantec that I meant to mention to you about 10 times and got sidetracked every time. That job."

_Symantec. Why does that sound familiar?_ A beat passed before she could place the name. _It was that first brief with Beckman. The general and Chuck were talking about Symantec and some job offer, but we were both so freaked out by the new cover that neither of us brought it up after. Damn emotions!_ Chuck misinterpreted the reason behind the silence and bumped her arm with his own, putting on his innocent smile, coupled with slightly raised eyebrows.

"Please don't kill me?"

She bumped his arm back while theatrically rolling her eyes and leaned over to give him a kiss on the cheek, the others finding the exchange comical. Obscuring the others' view of Chuck, his whisper was immediate once she had leaned over enough to be within earshot.

"Reed is ex-CIA and is one of the virus' authors."

Her smile still perfectly in place when they pulled apart, the only sign she gave that she'd heard him was the squeeze she gave his hand.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Hear, hear to getting a season 3! And hear, hear to the continually awesome reviewers from the previous chapter, too._

_As I told some of you, I didn't care for how the last chapter came out, so I'm glad that many of you liked it more than I did. I tried to make sure that this chapter was a bit more to my liking before I posted it...and consequently rewrote it five times. Who knows if it came out better than the previous chapter. I'm still undecided._

_I found a few typos and super-awkward sentences in the previous chapters. Those have been fixed. The normal McDuck disclaimers are still in effect._

-.-.-.-

**Day 5: Tuesday**

_What the hell has Beckman gotten me into now?_, Sarah thought as she squeezed his hand back after his whisper and assessed the other ex-spies in the room. Luckily, they seemed to all be rather taken with Chuck and convinced by his explanation for his behavior, sparing the newly engaged couple the tedious chore of convincing them. With their double cover and the secret of the Intersect secure, Sarah allowed her mind to wander while the others asked Chuck about his new job.

The revelation that one of the virus authors was a _client_ of hers seemed mighty coincidental. _Could Beckman have known?_ She thought through her call to Beckman earlier in the day, when she'd notified the general about Chuck's author-identification progress. _There's no way_. Superiors, by nature, were information misers, but subordinates (by nature) were adept at detecting when superiors were being misers. Sarah detected no miserliness from Beckman during their call—if anything, Beckman was more receptive to the information that Sarah passed along than she'd usually be, not less. _And, judging from Beckman's reaction to Chuck's brief last Saturday, the NSA's clueless on this one. There's no way they could have gotten the drop on Chuck and figured out authorship first._

That left one possibility. _This is the biggest coincidence ever. Incredible. _She tuned back in to the conversation occurring around her in time to hear the tail-end of Chuck's sentence.

"…that's a good way to think about it. I'm a triage guy for computers—I patch them back together after a new virus hits, and then I figure out a way to protect against infection."

Glancing around again to see how receptive the others were, they were listening to his every word. Per the usual when Chuck talked about computers, he had become much more animated, saying more in the past 5 minutes than he'd said all night. Judging by the expressions on the others' faces, they weren't spy-listening-for-information listening, but girls-listening-to-guy listening.

She allowed herself to glance over at him while he answered another question. _Damn it. He's adorable. And he has no clue…which makes it even more adorable._ Freeing her hand from his, she began playing with the back of his collar. The movement startled him, and he looked over to catch her staring at him intensely. Chuck casually leaned over to her to kiss her cheek, smile on his face. Without thinking about it, he lightly rested his hand on her knee while he settled back down. She could feel her pulse rate go through the roof. _Whoa now, Walker, his hand is on your knee. KNEE. Breathe already. _She forced herself to relax, but Abigail had caught Sarah's initial reaction and was now sporting a knowing smile. Sarah didn't care for the smile and started doing the math in her head. _We've been sitting here long enough to leave without offending anyone. Time to go._ When the next lull in conversation came, Sarah was ready.

"Sweetie, don't you have to work early tomorrow?"

Chuck got the hint. _Though I really do have to work early tomorrow._

"Yeah, I have the early shift. We better go, or else I'll have trouble getting up tomorrow."

Abigail got the hint as well, and rose to walk them to the door.

"You know, our annual charity gala is this Friday—black tie, the works. All of our clients that are in town turn out. Why don't you two come? It'll give you a chance to meet the clients, Sarah, before you start reviewing their files."

_My God, we're going to go to more parties and galas for this job than we do for missions._ Noticing that Chuck had returned to his amicable silence, Sarah answered for them both with more cheerfulness than she was feeling.

"We'd love to come! When and where?"

Walking to the front door while everyone took turns rattling off details about the gala, Chuck was engulfed in multiple hugs by the others. Sarah took the opportunity to quietly speak to Abigail as they hugged goodbye.

"Is a gala really a good idea? That seems to compromise our client list by announcing it to the world."

"This is the private sector, Sarah. Client lists are somewhat guarded, yes, but how else would we draw in new clients if we didn't flaunt who our current clients are and how well they're being protected?"

Sarah could clearly visualize what Casey's reaction would be to such a statement: _there would be an eye roll, growl, and another growl. Then, he'd make some comment about the private sector being motivated by money other than duty_. The image made her smile. Abigail misinterpreted the reason for the smile, and was about to say something when Chuck appeared next to Sarah, grin wide across his face.

"Ready to go?"

She returned the grin and nodded, and after a few more last-minute goodbyes, they were walking arm-in-arm toward Sarah's Porsche. Chuck cautiously looked back at the house before commenting quietly enough so he couldn't be heard by the gaggle of executives standing on the front porch.

"They all seem nice, though I'm not sure what's up with the hugging."

_Me either. I've never met ex-spies that hugged so much._

"Nice? I think they all want to marry you."

"That's unfortunate. I'm pretty sure I'm already taken."

They both laughed the rest of the way to the car.

-.-.-.-

Walking hand-in-hand through the lobby of Sarah's apartment building, Chuck's phone started vibrating. Awkwardly grabbing it out of his pocket with his free hand, and ignoring Sarah's borderline murderous look, he read the text that was waiting for him.

_Ditched own surveil. to quickly recon SW's apt. Audio still safe, visual compromised – thermal equip. present. Will discuss tomorrow._

_- JC_

Offering the phone to her as they entered the elevator, she handed it back after she had finished reading the text. He used his phone to punch the button to Sarah's floor and gesture in the air.

"Can you do drinks tomorrow, sweetie?"

It took her a moment to catch on. She nodded while wrapping her arms around his waist and snuggling into his chest. Chuck punched in Casey's number and waited while the phone rang, his other arm reactively going around Sarah's waist.

"Hey John, just got your text and wanted to call you before we turned in for the night—we'd love to come over for drinks at your place tomorrow. Do you have a time in mind? … Oh, sure, after work, uh, works. … Yeah, I know, I can't believe I'm getting out of the Buy More either. … I actually have some more news, too. … Ha, no, Ellie is not evicting me, very funny. … We'll see you tomorrow, night!"

Hanging up, Sarah moved her head to Chuck's shoulder. Doing so made it easier to carry out the whispered conversation they needed to have.

"The thermal equipment's a problem."

"Why's that?"

"Because while they can't hear us, they'll be able to see us through the curtains and walls."

"OK, so wha…"

She shushed him so she could think as the elevator continued its torturously slow trek to Sarah's floor. _If the surveillance has been there all night, then they'll know we almost tackled one another before the party, meaning that we need to perform…damn it. If it hasn't been there all night, then we'll be fine…until they discover that we got engaged tonight, when they'll then wonder why nothing happened tonight after we got back, meaning that we need to perform…double damn it._ Either way, the conclusion was the same.

"This is what needs to happen. We need to get into the bathroom in such a way that it looks like we won't be coming out for a _long_ while, alright?"

"Why a long while?"

"Because we need to talk, and that's the only place we're going to be able to do it without being watched. Spending a large amount of time in a bathroom without the proper…motivation looks suspicious."

_Is "suspicious" our new bad word?_, he thought._ For a while, there, it was "compromised."_ Keeping his thoughts to himself, he nodded.

"Do you have a plan for getting us into the bathroom for that long that's not suspicious?"

Her plan was the smart play in this situation, just like making out with him in the car during the warehouse raid had been. She bit down hard on the side of her cheek, because like the warehouse raid, this plan was going to have fallout.

"Yes."

He waited for her to elaborate. When no elaboration came, he glanced up at the illuminated numbers above the elevator doors. They were two floors away from Sarah's.

"We're going to hit your floor in a minute, so if you could tell me what the plan is so I know, that'd be great. Do I have to conga dance across the room?"

"So long as you're in the process of undressing me," she muttered, "you're more than welcome to conga."

She hadn't intended for him to hear what she said. He obviously had, and was in the process of hissing "WHAT!" when she poked him in the side…hard.

"Chuck, you proposed to me a few hours ago, and we were a step away from undressing each other before we remembered the party. They probably saw that. Now, if you can figure out a non-suspicious way for us to get to the bathroom that doesn't involve any clothes-tearing passion, then I'm all for it, but we set ourselves up for this one."

_And I am not particularly pleased about it_, she thought.

Standing there gape-mouthed, Chuck's mind raced to find a more acceptable solution that didn't involve shedding clothing. Every alternate plan he came up with sounded ridiculously contrived. He finally snapped his mouth shut and let out a small sigh as he tightened his hold on her, tacitly admitting that her plan was the best option available. Both fell silent as the elevator passed the next floor. Sarah whispered again as the elevator slowed for her floor. Nervousness and worry tinged her voice.

"We can control this, right?"

He wasn't so sure.

-.-.-.-

_This tile is not cold enough_, Chuck thought. He was laying face down on Sarah's bathroom floor, clad only in his boxers, trying to channel some of the coolness of the tile into his lower extremities. He was also trying not to think of the events of the past 45 minutes…with little success.

Once the elevator had reached her floor, they had made it down the hallway without any major incidents. Sarah had already slipped her hands under his suit coat and was working on unbuttoning his dress shirt by the time they got to her door, and they'd all but fallen into her room when they'd managed to get said door open. He'd escalated everything once the door had shut by crashing his lips into hers, and had tried to keep Sarah as clothed as possible while moving them toward the bathroom.

Noticing his hesitation, Sarah had taken the final step that resulted in his current prone position. She had backed out of his embrace and stalked toward the bathroom, shooting him a smoldering glare over her shoulder. Stunned, only when Sarah threw her dress at him did he snap out of his stupor and race after her. The intermittent details were hazy, but it ended with her on the vanity counter in her bra and panties, his clothes all over the bathroom floor, both sets of hands nearing dangerous territory, and the two of them breathlessly staring deep into one another's eyes in a painful moment of clarity:_ we can't control this._

After that, he backed away from the counter and sprawled out face down on the floor as best he could to cool off. He had heard her get into the shower moments later, and neither of them had moved or spoken since. Lifting his forehead off the floor enough to look over at the shower, he thumped it back down to the ground and sighed.

"Can I ask why we did that?"

She'd been letting the water run over her for a while, but his voice breaking the silence had her feeling like she was on fire again. _God, I wish this shower was colder. Talk about major fallout. Triple damn it. _She tried to keep her tone measured when answering.

"The steam and heat from the shower will mess with the thermal goggles by…"

"…making the room temperature match body temperature so they can't distinguish human bodies from the ambient temperature. I get it."

Silence reigned again. Chuck asked another question a couple minutes later, higher brain functions not yet returning.

"Why are you showering, then?"

_Other than the obvious reason, Chuck?_ She gave him the professional reason instead of the obvious one.

"If we're in here for a while, our friends with the thermal gear are going to be suspicious if we come out completely dry."

_Why me?_, he thought, looking toward the ceiling. _Didn't we suffer enough with the undressing thing? _His eyes snapped to the bathtub as they returned to the tile. He scooted across the floor to turn on its faucet, filling the bathtub with icy water. The sound of the tub filling prompted Sarah to poke her head out from the shower.

"What are you doing?"

"Multitasking," he answered over his shoulder. _She doesn't seriously expect me to jump in that shower, does she? How the hell is a hot shower going to help? _Not expecting to see her head enveloped in a steam cloud or to make eye contact with her, he did a double-take before looking skyward again and turning the water colder before stepping into the tub, boxers and all.

"Speaking of our friends, did you get a chance to look at any of our surveillance video at work today for them?"

Accepting that they had resumed speaking to one another, Sarah withdrew her head back into the shower. She took in one sharp breath before letting it out slowly. _Focus on his exact question. Forget the rest._

"I looked over the footage on my lunch break."

"…and? Did you find anything?"

"Whoever's watching us isn't very good. They pick bad vantage points to watch from and are far too obvious. The first video of them I found was from Sunday afternoon, when we were walking across the courtyard. There's always been someone in your courtyard or in the Buy More parking lot since then, normally doing a horrible job of hiding."

_And apparently there are people watching my apartment as well_, she silently added while rinsing the shampoo from her hair. If she ever found out who was watching her apartment, she made a vow to drop them into the Pacific. Unlike her, Chuck was thinking aloud.

"If they're so obvious, won't we know when we're being watched? We could just relax the rest of the time."

"Or they might be obvious on purpose. Then, when we don't see the obvious surveillance, we'll let our guard down, and the surveillance that we haven't detected will watch how we really act."

Chuck sighed out of sheer incredulity. _Just when I think I have the spy world figured out…_

"If we figure out who's watching us, could Beckman create a reason to order them back to DC? Can't she check who's requested vacation time lately?"

"You're assuming that they're active agents. They could be retired agents or analysts doing a favor for a friend."

Taking a deep breath at that disheartening news, Chuck submerged himself completely in the bathtub, enjoying the simplicity and silence of the underwater world. Upon surfacing again and rubbing the water out of his eyes, his agitated sigh marked his frustration with the complexities of the spy world. She heard it over the roar of the shower and decided that it was her turn to ask a question.

"Tell me about your flash from earlier."

Minutes later, Chuck finished detailing the intel from the Intersect from both flashes—Sarah had only seen the one in the sitting room, and had missed the hallway flash completely. She noted the high points, and was formulating her report to Beckman in the morning when sloshing from the tub interrupted her thoughts. Poking her head outside the shower again, she found Chuck standing in the middle of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist. He shrugged before answering her unasked question.

"We've been in a bathroom for over an hour. Your opinion of me must be very high."

The line prompted a sad smirk from Sarah. Ducking back into the shower to shut off the water, she reemerged wrapped in a towel, and both wordlessly made preparations to sleep. Neither was in the mood to talk about the end of the evening.

Crawling into bed, they stayed on separate sides long enough to fall asleep. Sarah still woke up the next morning wrapped in Chuck's arms. She made the conscious decision to go back to sleep and enjoy what was fast becoming the favorite part of her day.

-.-.-.-

**Day 6: Wednesday**

Thumping a bottle of excellent scotch against his left leg, Chuck loosely held Sarah's hand while she knocked on Casey's door. Raising his arm enough to see his watch, he resumed thumping the scotch against his leg once he'd finished and fiddled with their intertwined fingers.

"What time did Ellie say dinner was?"

Sarah had answered Chuck's cell phone this morning while he was in the bathroom getting dressed for work. Ellie had been the caller. After Ellie had calmed down—Sarah answering Chuck's cell so early in the morning was a _major_ event, in the eyes of the elder Bartowski—Ellie had invited them over for dinner tonight. There had a problem with the bridesmaids' dresses, and she wanted to talk with Sarah over the best way to deal with the problem.

"She really didn't give a time. Something about dresses having the wrong fastening devices and needing to be refitted…?"

"You're talking to _me_ about fashion? I'm lucky I can dress myself, thank you very much. Fastening refitters or whatever means nothing to me."

"You did pretty OK last night, if I remember correctly."

He tensed next to her, and she kicked herself. _He's rubbing off on me—I walked right into that one_. They had been ignoring last night all day for the sake of the cover, and in ignoring it, they had reached a tenuous sort of détente. A voice calling out from across the courtyard saved either of them from having to answer.

"Hey, Chuck!"

Both heads whipped toward the voice. Ellie was waving at them from Casa Bartowski's doorway, surprised to see her younger brother standing in front of John Casey's door. _Oh come on, Ellie_, he thought, _you HAD to walk outside during the 15 seconds where we were waiting for Casey to open his door? You spared us from having to talk about last night, though._

"Hey sis. We'll be over in a few: John invited us over for drinks."

"That's great‼ He doesn't seem to have a lot of visitors, so that's really nice of you guys."

_How is that great?_, Chuck wondered. Sarah was too busy hiding her smirk in Chuck's shoulder, and Chuck didn't get a chance to ask—Ellie wasn't finished.

"Why don't you invite him over for dinner? We have plenty of food."

Chuck pasted on a fake smile.

"That's so thoughtful of you. I'll ask him, but I think he's opening the store tomorrow, so I'm not sure that he'll say yes."

Ellie set her jaw. He could see it from his position across the courtyard.

"Chuck, you tell him that unless he has something _better_ to do, he WILL show up for dinner tonight. Got it?"

"Got it. I'll pass it along."

Nodding once, she smiled and waved at them again. Sarah whispered to Chuck once Ellie had shut the door.

"We're inviting _Casey_ over for dinner?"

"Be nice to my coworkers. Not everyone can serve yogurt for a living."

_Shit_. She had forgotten they were probably being watched. Before she could berate herself any further, Casey's front door swung open to reveal the man himself with his fake sincere smile. Waving them both inside and taking the bottle of scotch off their hands, Chuck noticed that Casey had made no effort to create a sitting area for their fake social call. The acute lack of a couch in Casey's front room had never struck him until this particular moment. As soon as the door shut, Casey turned back into his charming self.

"We're clear for audio AND visual in here—NSA was by earlier today to install heat shielding in the walls and windows to deter thermal cameras. That means you lovebirds can keep your hands off of one another so I don't have gouge out my eyeballs."

Sarah scowled at Casey as Chuck unconsciously took a small step away from her. _Just what I need—Casey being…Casey. In case we aren't having a hard enough time today…_

"So, Walker, do you need help putting together your bridal registry?"

Chuck noticed Sarah slowly moving her hand toward her sheath of throwing knives and grabbed her wrist before she could snatch one and throw it at Casey. He talked as he did so.

"Actually, know what, Casey? I think we're good. Ellie will have all of that covered, don't you worry."

Sarah was on the verge of protesting, flipping her arm over to show that she could easily break Chuck's hold on her wrist. He just looked at her, with his eyebrows shooting up once to punctuate how ridiculous it would be to skewer Casey, no matter how tempting. Casey caught the end of their silent exchange and decided to stir the pot again, not aware that he was about to walk into a minefield.

"I noticed that Chuck didn't sleep at home last night. The real question is whether you two've sealed the deal and mamboed, or did Bartowksi not _rise_ to the occasion?"

The shock on Chuck's face was evident, and she had no doubt that their cheeks were both burning a particular shade of crimson. She wasn't sure if Chuck's shock was because of what Casey said or because she had planted her hand on Chuck's hip as soon as Casey'd finished. The hand on his hip was serving two purposes: she was hoping that the tactile reminder would be a sufficient deterrent for her from killing Casey and that it would be enough to stop Chuck from trying to kill Casey.

"_If_ you're quite done, Casey, what did you want to discuss?"

The venom in Sarah's voice took Casey aback. Taking note of her tone, Casey shifted to business to defuse the situation.

"I was going to tell you about the people watching your apartment, but I had a conference call with Beckman earlier. She mentioned that Chuck flashed on one of Fort Knox's clients. Details on this client?"

Taking his cue, Chuck dutifully told Casey the full details of his two flashes. Casey poured himself a scotch and swirled it in his glass a few times once Chuck finished.

"Sounds interesting. The general wants us to recon this guy: get into his office, poke around a bit to see if we can find evidence of who else is involved, that sort of thing."

Chuck coughed a bit before clearing his throat. _Does no one else see the big problem with that?_

"Uh, guys, if we have people watching our every move and Sarah's not even with the CIA anymore, how are we going to recon anything? The purpose of recon is to remain _in_conspicuous, or so I've been told."

Sarah pinched the bridge of her nose—Chuck's point was valid. _I think I may officially hate this new cover._ The grunt from Casey sounded like he'd reached the same conclusion she had. She realized that they had another problem soon after her initial conclusion.

"Our firm provides security for Reed's office downtown. That means, I hope, that it's fairly secure. I haven't seen any client files yet, but the recon wouldn't be a quick in-and-out mission. We'd need a long block of time where the office would be empty...guaranteed"

Casey was out-and-out growling now, and Sarah's own revelation had put a sour look on her face. Chuck's brows were furrowed, eyes dancing back and forth between Casey and Sarah. Snapping his fingers, he motioned with one hand rapidly while he tried to assemble his thoughts aloud.

"Wait wait wait. We have that thing on Friday, right? The gala thing? Didn't Abigail say that most of their clients show up? If Reed's at the gala, then that means that he's not at his office..."

She saw where he was going with this and finished his sentence.

"…which means that it'll be empty."

Growls stopped coming from Casey. He was now staring at Chuck the same way he did any time Chuck had a somewhat coherent idea. A single, neutral grunt followed.

"That's not half bad, Bartowski. That'll give me a chance to get into his office."

"Just you? Alone? That doesn't sound like a good idea, but hey, I'm just the guy with the super computer in his brain, so what do I know."

With Casey starting to growl again, Sarah cut in to the conversation.

"Yes, alone probably isn't a good idea, but if Casey goes alone, then that demonstrates to whoever's watching us all that his mission and my old mission aren't related. It might help get these people to back off."

Sarah intended to ask about little surveillance problem, but Casey wasn't done talking about the recon mission.

"If I have to do this alone, I could use some extra intel. Can you get the security system specs for me, Walker?"

The perils of having one foot in the private sector and one foot in the public sector suddenly became quite apparent to Sarah.

"…that might not be a good idea—this _is_ what I officially do for a living. It's not a cover. I can't lose this job. Leaking secret, internal files hardly helps that cause any."

Casey took a menacing step toward Sarah. Sarah's reaction and tone from earlier forgotten, Casey harshly pointed toward Sarah and Chuck where appropriate to emphasize his point.

"Even though you get to prance around all day as dipstick's future wife with your civilian job, you're still a CIA agent, and don't you forget it. Our orders are to recon this guy's office."

Taking a few well-spaced steps put Sarah toe-to-toe with Casey. Both were starting to get louder with each exchange.

"You don't have to remind me what _my_ orders are, thank you. Currently, they involve not only recon, but maintaining my cover and protecting the Intersect, same as yours."

"Funny, you just said that your precious job at the security firm wasn't a cover, so is it a cover job or isn't it?"

"Don't get cute and argue semantics with me. You know exactly what I mean."

"Getting cute? Oh, that's rich. I believe you've been _ordered_ to be cute with Chuckles over there, and you're doing that _very_ well. You wouldn't be compromi..."

At the word "compromised," with its new implications and the events of the previous night, Sarah instinctively reached toward the small of her back for her gun before remembering that she no longer carried one—she was not officially a CIA agent. The motion didn't go unnoticed by Casey, whose eyes narrowed to slits as he started to reach for his. Just as he was about to draw down on Sarah, a hand appeared on each of their chests: Chuck had wedged himself between the two agents and had pushed them apart firmly. From the fleeting stunned expression on both agents' faces, Chuck's guess was that neither of them remembered that he was actually in the room.

"Hey now, hey now: no need to yell. We're all young and spry and have our hearing. Easy does it."

"You're about as spry as a beached whale, moron."

Chuck ignored the barb from Casey and forced himself to speak calmly to Sarah.

"If Casey breaks in _before_ you review client security and breaks in exploiting the very holes that _you_ find in their security when you review it, then that would help your cause…wouldn't it?"

Sarah and Casey were still seething at one another. Tapping on Sarah's chest with his thumb, Chuck repeated himself again once her eyes snapped to him and refocused.

"That would probably reinforce my cover, yes, so long as we don't go breaking in to other clients' offices."

Since she was already looking at him, Chuck walked Sarah backwards toward the door as he spoke.

"See, so assuming your clients aren't all scumbags, we're in great shape."

Chuck spoke to Casey without turning around once they'd reached the front door.

"Casey, you're invited to dinner. Ellie was insistent, which is unfortunate. Come over when you're ready, unless you're just going to be your charming self—don't bother if you are."

Opening the front door, Chuck morphed the sentence into a fake goodbye to Casey. The NSA agent peered through the blinds at the couple walking across the courtyard. Chuck and Sarah were putting up a good front that would fool anyone else, but he could see the tension in them both. Shaking his head, Casey grunted before heading upstairs to change for dinner at the Bartowski residence.

_Damn. I knew this new cover wasn't going to end well._


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Had to do a bit of traveling this past week, hence the chapter taking longer to get out than I'd like. To all the readers and reviewers—you're awesome. I knew how I wanted this all to end eventually, but your comments have firmed it up considerably and improved it considerably (…said scenes are not in this chapter, just to be clear), so thank you for that. Disclaimers continue to apply._

_-.-.-.-_

**Day 6: Wednesday**

He was laying with a pillow over his face on the couch in Casa Bartowski, waiting for Sarah to return. She had politely excused herself to go use the bathroom as soon as they had walked in the door, only nodding to Ellie and Awesome with a fake smile as she strode to the bathroom. _Please oh please let all the fixtures be intact when she's done_. With the way she had squeezed his arm across the courtyard, Chuck had visions of finding the bathroom sink kung-fu-ed in half.

Before he could ruminate much longer on the state of the bathroom after Sarah had finished with it, Morgan threw open the front door without warning and marched in with a determined look on his face. Stopping midway between the couch and the door, he folded his hands over his chest and stared at Chuck.

"Chuck, when were you going to tell me that you were quitting the Buy More!"

Chuck propped himself up on his elbows and gave Morgan the strangest look ever; the pillow that was covering his face flopped over on to his chest.

"…what? I told you this morning in the break room!"

Morgan gave him no heed, and turned toward a willing and captive audience—a shocked Ellie and Awesome—to orate with flourish. His tone was far from irate. _If anything_, Chuck thought, _it's like he's making a political speech to them._

"I get the shift schedule for next week, and I see that my buddy over here isn't listed anywhere. So I'm thinking, 'Oh, clerical error!' and say something to Emmett, and THAT'S when I find out that Chuck here QUIT THE BUY MORE yesterday morning. YESTERDAY! It's been over 24 hours since he's quit and he didn't think to call his BEST FRIEND to tell him the news!"

Ellie was in the pre-squeal stage; Chuck was past the pre-shock stage and had moved on to out-and-out shock. At that exact moment, Sarah reentered the kitchen. Morgan spotted her and redirected his energies.

"And YOU! I bet you're the reason Chuck quit—you finally got him to move on to 'better' things. That's great: as the captain of Team Chuck, I applaud your efforts. But, hey, Sarah—you've got to be a team player. You've _got_ to consult the rest of us when you get Chuck to make these life-altering decisions."

Sarah and Chuck's eyes connected across the room, communicating a mixture of confusion (contributed mostly by Sarah) and amusement (Chuck). While Chuck tried to figure out what had gotten into Morgan, the bearded man spied Sarah's left hand, strategically planted on her left hip to shield it temporarily from Ellie and Awesome. Morgan's eyes went wide and he pointed steadily at her hand, speaking in tone that continued to be far more ridiculous in nature than irate or agitated.

"What. is. that. Is that what I think it is? I am _losing_ my best friend to…to…wait, did you hold my man Chuck over a barrel and tell him that you refused to marry him until he quit the Buy More, because that would NOT be awesome. And, Chuck, TWO life-altering decisions in one week and you DID NOT THINK TO CONTACT YOUR WINGMAN FOR ADVICE? What's next, you two moving in together! Man, kids these days…"

Morgan had clearly intended the comment about moving in to be a joke, but Chuck's expression morphed into an exasperated one. Sarah's eyebrows shot up, not quite believing what was unfolding in front of her and how her day was shaping up in general. _I would have stayed in there longer if I had known I'd walk smack into this._ After Casey, her patience was wearing thin—she had barely gotten herself under control in the bathroom. Morgan, in the span of two minutes, managed to announce every piece of major news that she figured would have come out tonight. And she had to play the role of ecstatic girlfriend/fiancée, when ecstatic was the last thing in the world she was feeling right now. Morgan's antics would have been amusing any time other than now. _I'm going to get whiplash: we go from Casey being Casey to Morgan being…Morgan. At least the latter trumps the former._

Morgan noticed their expressions and dramatically staggered back, clutching his chest.

"No no no no no…Chuck! You've got to be kidding me! Dude, no more Call of Duty tournaments! No mo…no more Morgan door?"

Interpreting Sarah's still raised eyebrows as a "what did you tell him?" death stare carried over from their meeting with Casey—not far from the truth, but not completely accurate—Chuck had popped up to his knees to peer over the back of the couch and was emphatically waving his arms around and shaking his head no.

"I told him I quit this morning while he was drinking his Red Bull! I promise! He just _totally_ guessed all of that!"

_WE haven't even talked about moving in together yet!_, he silently added. The words had come out so fast that Chuck himself sounded like he had just downed a Red Bull. Ellie was clutching on to Awesome, beginning to jump up and down, but she seemed to be waiting to _really_ let loose until Sarah or Chuck directly confirmed Morgan's revelations. Not receiving much direction from Sarah, who was trying to keep herself together, Chuck weakly smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

"Surprise?"

Just as Ellie let out a squeal with previously unheard volume and started jumping up and down, Casey stepped through the still open front door. The volume of Ellie's squeal managed to startle the hardened NSA agent, sending the bottle of wine he had brought as a peace offering crashing down to the ground, soaking everything in a five-foot radius in red wine…including himself. Eyes instantly finding each other from across the room, Sarah and Chuck thought the same thing: _Karma?_ A smirk crossed Chuck's face, and despite her worsening mood, Sarah felt a matching smirk creep across her face. To his credit, Casey held in the growl that nearly erupted at the sight.

Forcing himself to be polite, the wine-soaked agent excused himself to go change, Ellie still squealing all the while. Casey was halfway across the courtyard to change again before she stopped, but only to lock Sarah in a rib-crushing hug.

"OH MY GOD! That's great, Chuck! Sarah! Chuck! That's…great!"

_Wow, El_, he thought,_ that was eloquent_. After initially taken aback, Sarah eventually returned the hug for a few seconds before looking up at Chuck as Ellie continued to hug her like no tomorrow. Seeing Sarah's look—a cross between "not-quite-ready-for-this" and "help!"—Chuck scrambled over the back of the couch to provide backup. He came up behind them and put his hand on Ellie's shoulder.

"We can't get married if you kill her, sis."

The thought of them not getting married managed to permeate Ellie's hyper-excitement, and she let Sarah go long enough to turn and wrap Chuck in a similar hug. It took him a few tortured gasps before he had enough air to speak.

"We can't get married if you kill me, either."

As soon as Ellie let him go, Chuck wrapped an arm around Sarah to deter any further hugging. In doing so, he accidentally brushed against a bare patch of skin between her jeans and tanktop. Her breath caught at the unanticipated contact. Clamping down on the other responses of her traitorous body, Sarah put her hand over Chuck's and moved it to a more safe location, one covered with clothing. _I've really had it with…today. Is a few minutes to pull it together and think too much to ask for?_ Her mind, unbidden, went to the calm and serenity of her recent mornings, and she found herself ardently wishing that the day would end so the morning would come.

Awesome, silent the whole time, was now holding back Ellie while she asked more questions, lest she pounce on Chuck or Sarah again…or the two of them simultaneously. _I bet Ellie could manage the double hug_, Chuck thought, if the cheerfulness in her voice was any indication.

"When did this happen?"

Still focusing intensely on calming down, Sarah missed Ellie's question entirely. Chuck waited for a moment to see if she'd answer before realizing that her mind was a million miles away and rushed to fill the silence before Ellie had a chance to a.) ask more questions or b.) become skeptical.

"Uh, last night, actually…"

He bumped Sarah slightly with his hip, breaking her concentration and making her aware again of the world around her—Chuck giving her a sidelong look as Ellie stared at them both expectantly, waiting for more. _Shit, Walker, get your head in the game. If you don't start talking soon, Ellie will be get suspicious. SPEAK!_

Luckily for Sarah, Awesome noticed her expression and Ellie's increasing excitement. He steered Ellie back toward the kitchen, away from Chuck and Sarah, and noting the presence of Casey again, suggested that everyone sit down for dinner. Clearly unwilling to let Ellie carry anything that could be sent airborne, Awesome began carrying dinner to the table and raised his eyebrows knowingly as Chuck pushed in Sarah's chair.

"I bet last night was _quite_ the night, eh, Chuckster?"

In the process of sitting down in his own chair by the time Awesome finished, Chuck almost landed on Sarah as he missed the chair. Clearing his throat, they shared one of their blistering, intense looks. Sarah was the one to break it, eyes lowering as she took a sip of wine. Chuck replied while lowering himself into the chair without further mishap.

"Oh it was interesting, alright."

Grabbing a beer, Casey caught the look that passed between the two of them before Chuck answered. Both were slightly red and fake smiling, but their eyes told a different story. The near-shoot out at his apartment earlier now made sense. _Oh hell, these two _didn't _sleep together last night, but almost did._ _I hate lady feelings._ Understanding the magnitude of the minefield he had managed to walk into earlier, and thinking ahead to the mission at the end of the week, he downed the entire beer in one gulp, prompting shocked looks from everyone at the table. He shrugged as he lowered it.

"Rough day at work. Sorry."

The "sorry" was subtly directed at Sarah, whose head whipped toward Casey. He looked at her long enough to communicate his message before turning his head toward Ellie, who had begun clapping rapidly again. The clapping hadn't registered with Sarah because she was still processing the Casey look. _Shit, Casey knows…somehow. How the hell does he know? Does he have a sixth sense for these things?_ Sarah took a longer sip of wine to put off any feelings of panic, worry, or killing.

Meanwhile, Ellie stopped clapping long enough so that she could talk.

"You know what's going to be a lot of work? Planning two weddings at once! It's going to be so much fun!"

The wine that Sarah had just sipped spilled back into her glass as her head snapped forward. Chuck patted her back as she coughed a few times. She was still trying to wrap her mind around being engaged to Chuck—she hadn't even _gotten_ to the whole planning-the-wedding and marriage part. Panic beginning to bubble up, her hand unconsciously found its way to Chuck's knee under the table for moral support, causing him to jump slightly in his seat and tense up. Sarah spoke as calmly as she could.

"Planning two weddings at once is a little crazy. You guys got engaged first, so how about we finish yours first before moving on to…ours?"

"Ours" sounded foreign coming from Sarah's mouth. She had almost said "the other wedding" before realizing how impersonal it sounded. Ellie mulled the suggestion over, and answered in the tone she usually reserved for Chuck during her big-sister talks.

"I think we could do both at once, but if that's what you guys want, that's fine with me. But, if we can't plan both weddings at once, I think we're going to need to throw a little engagement party on Saturday! What do you guys say?"

Chuck and Sarah glanced at one another, knowing what the answer _had_ to be. Sarah was the one to answer with as much cheer as she could muster, but both had fake smiles plastered across their faces.

"Sounds great!"

Their thoughts, however, were the complete opposite as they resumed eating.

_Sounds like hell on Earth._

"Speaking of our wedding," Ellie continued while doling out the salad, "the dresses…," and she proceeded to describe, in nauseating detail, what the problem was with the bridesmaids' dresses. Sarah contributed little to the actual discussion except agreeing to meet Ellie at the bridal shop tomorrow on their lunch hour to see how many alterations were needed.

Morgan was still collapsed in the armchair, taxed from his dynamic presentation and the stark reality that everything he posited was true. At the conclusion of the dress talk, he sullenly made his way to the table, at long last. He spoke as he sat down and began scooping food on to his plate.

"After considering our situation, I think what needs to happen here are open-to-closers tomorrow and Friday, Chuck."

Chuck's expression turned to the one present whenever Morgan suggested a completely ludicrous idea: eyes slightly narrowed, brows furrowed, and an overall confused look. The fact that Chuck hadn't uttered a word in a good 15 minutes because of Ellie talking about dresses amplified his confusion.

"Morgan, you do realize that I'm _leaving_ the Buy More. Why would I work MORE hours—every hour the store is open, in fact—between now and Friday?"

Morgan picked up his fork and began waving it about as he explained his logic.

"Because we need to maximize the amount of bonding time we have before you leave! Chuck and Morgan…Morgan and Chuck…an era is coming to an end!" He paused. "…plus, you didn't consult me on any of these decisions of yours lately. We need to reconnect!"

Sarah knew what Chuck's decision was going to be before he said it aloud. Him refusing his best friend anything would never happen. She tried to preempt him.

"Sweetie, I think that really sounds…"

"...like a great plan!," he finished, cutting her off. "Sure, Morgan. I think I can swing that."

Sarah slowly turned her head to glare holes through the side of Chuck's head. _If we need mission prep, when the hell are we going to have time for it, if he's working 9am to10pm?_ _When am I going to see him at ALL between now and then?_ The second thought was ignored for now—_You were the one just wishing for time to think_, agent mode chimed in,_ looks like you got it_. Chuck felt her staring and turned to receive the full death glare. Words were tumbling out of his mouth as soon as the intensity of Sarah's glare registered.

"…buuuuuuuuuut not Friday night. We," acknowledging Sarah with a tilted head, "we have plans already, so not Friday. Friday night…yeah, Friday's bad."

Chuck's bumbling answer resulted in the glare being downgraded from deadly to disabling. Morgan missed Sarah's reaction and started talking in a sing-song voice, elated.

"Dude, aweeeeeeeeesomeeeeeeee! CALL OF DUTY TOURNAMEEEEEEEEEEENT! I never thought you'd go for it, since you've got the emergency line tonight…"

Sarah had stopped glaring at Chuck to sip her wine again, but Morgan's comment about Chuck having a shift for the after-hours Nerd Herd line brought the glare back in no time as she slowly lowered her wine glass to the table.

"You're on call tonight?"

It sounded more like a statement than a question when Sarah said it. Casey couldn't help himself—he let out an amused grunt. Chuck nervously chuckled as he suddenly found cutting up his food to be very interesting.

"Emmett gave me the shifts tonight, yeah—call volume's still kind of high for the virus stuff, and you know how…efficient the others tend to be."

"Shift_s_? Plural?"

He suddenly saw where this was going. _I'm so dead._ Either Sarah was playing the role of the miffed fiancée very well, or she was actually mad. _Please please please let it be the first one._

"I'm on call all night."

"So you're telling me that you've just committed to working over 30 hours the next two days for a job you no longer have after this week?"

_OK, thinking that it's not the first one. When she puts it like that, I really do sound like a schnook. God, I'm so out of practice when it comes to the whole having-a-pseudo-real-girlfriend thing._ He risked a quick glance over at Ellie, who was shaking her head at her little brother's dense moment.

"…yesssss?"

She was far from amused. Chuck was giving her the innocent puppy dog eyes, and he may have been able to extract himself from the doghouse if Morgan hadn't enthusiastically piped in, the words sounding much better in his head than they did aloud.

"Look at the bright side. If you guys break up, then you don't have to leave the Buy More, Chuck!"

Sarah and Chuck stopped looking at one another to simultaneously turn toward Morgan and give him one of the dirtiest looks in history. Ellie and Awesome contributed as well, though their stares were not as intense as the ones from Chuck and Sarah, though Ellie came close. Casey merely punctuated the moment by muttering "moron" before he resumed eating. Suddenly remembering that Sarah wanted to kill him for his actions previous week, Morgan stared at the tabletop and shrank in his chair, muttering apologies. His eyes didn't leave the tabletop for the rest of the evening.

_-.-.-.-_

**Day 7: Thursday**

"Oh thank God, we won't have to take it in that much."

The relief in Ellie's voice was evident as the bride-to-be saw that the dress-fastener fiasco wasn't much of a fiasco at all. Sarah, standing in front of a panel of mirrors in said bridesmaid dress, was feeling far from relieved. The rest of dinner had been absurdly civil, if only because of the watcher in the courtyard. She hadn't spent the night at Casa Bartowski because of Chuck being on call—she still had no desire to be woken often by a phone. So, she'd slept alone…and had slept horribly. Staying at Chuck's and being woken by his phone every hour would have still produced a more restful night, which did nothing to improve her mood because of what it implied.

She'd finally eschewed sleep and went into work at 5am, but hadn't been able to focus on anything—the combination of no sleep and the new cover were finally starting to take their toll. She assumed that not spending the night at Chuck's would help, but had been unbelievably incorrect. _When was the last time I was able to actually THINK_, Sarah thought. The only times that came to mind were the temporary moments of clarity in the SUV and the elevator, and neither of those had very pleasant consequences. With the entire morning shot because of her inability to focus, she'd met Ellie at the bridal shop on her lunch break…and still hadn't seen Chuck yet.

Ellie's concerned voice broke through her thoughts.

"Are you OK? You seemed really out of it last night."

Sarah held in a sigh. She had worried about Ellie noticing her behavior the previous night, but thought she'd managed to escape scrutiny when the brunette hadn't mentioned anything during dinner. _Guess not_. Channeling some of her rapidly dwindling energy reserves, she put a smile on her face.

"Oh yeah, I'm fine. I just wasn't anticipating so much happening at once…or at all, really. I didn't think we'd ever be getting married, so I still can't quite believe that we are, if that makes sense."

_Great job keeping up the cover, there. Actually, why don't you just make it easier for everyone and tell her the actual story, for Christ's sake._ No sleep was apparently making her inner monologue more snippy than normal, too. The allusion to Sarah's previous employer made Ellie hesitate.

"Can I ask you something about your old job?"

Agent mode reappeared. _We're in the middle of a bridal shop and Ellie wants to talk about the CIA? Shit._ Her instincts told her to tell Ellie no, but she wasn't supposed to care about her old job anymore. _I hate this new cover._

"Within reason, sure."

Eyes slightly wide after understanding the hidden message in Sarah's response, Ellie stepped up on to the fitting platform so she wouldn't have to shout.

"Would you really have left Chuck?"

Sarah's eyes snapped to Ellie's reflection in the mirror. She had been expecting something about her actual job, like 'Have you ever killed a person' or 'How much did Chuck really know,' not something _about_ her and Chuck specifically. It was one question that she did not want to think about—its answer was far too real. _Could this week _get_ any worse?_ Drawing in a breath before answering, she fell back on their new cover story.

"I quit so I wouldn't have to, if that's what you're asking."

"I know you quit, but if you couldn't and they'd tried to transfer you…"

_My God, it has to be genetic—Ellie's as bad as Chuck is. Are they incapable of being satisfied with any spy-like answer?_ She tried to choose her words carefully.

"I would have left LA, if I couldn't quit."

Ellie looked horrified, and put her hand on Sarah's shoulder. Big-sister mode reared its head as Ellie studied Sarah seriously.

"Even though you're absolutely in love with him? You would have left?"

Being the CIA's top agent was no match for the stare of Dr. Eleanor Bartowski. The woman's gaze demanded answers, and Sarah was spewing out the reason she'd rationalized a million times, trying to ignore the tightness in her chest occurring at the utterance of the "l" word.

"It's the job, Ellie. We're…hired because we're qualified for it, and in return for being able to do what we're good at, they expect compliance or else lots of people are in…trouble. It's...it's complicated."

_Brilliant, Walker. What happened to falling back on the COVER story, not the ACTUAL story!_ Ellie look less than convinced, but as quickly as the serious moment came, it passed. Ellie let go of her shoulder and pointed Sarah's left hand with a broad smile across her face.

"That sounds absolutely ridiculous to me. Good thing you could quit. They sound like they're no fun to work for."

_How reassuring: Ellie thinks the real reason Chuck and I can't be together is absolute crap. _Sarah forced out a small chuckle to match Ellie's suddenly cheerful mood, but it took her an extra second to get rid of the grim smile as the seamstress finally appeared out of nowhere to mark where the dress had to be taken in.

"Let's just say that they aren't the most friendly people ever."

"The complete opposite of Chuck?"

Sarah laughed, the statement being far too accurate for words. She looked very thoughtful as she answered.

"Yes, the complete opposite of Chuck."

_-.-.-.-_

Chuck was on his sixth cup of coffee since the store had opened. Working from open to close after a night filled with sporadic phone calls and other distractions was proving to be a very bad idea. _Just let me close my eyes for a few seconds…_

Next thing he knew, it was 5 minutes later and Sarah was shaking his shoulder and calling his name. Face stuck to the Herder counter, as can only happen when one falls asleep at work, he slowly moved his head around to unstick himself before sitting up. Blinking a few times to focus his eyes, he found a very concerned Sarah looking at him, hand still resting on his shoulder.

"You OK?"

After spending her lunch break with Ellie, Sarah had decided to visit Chuck once she got back. Seeing him passed out on the desk had sent her into protective mode without realizing it. _Did someone drug him? Knock him unconscious?_

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Morgan _insisted_ on staying after you left last night and…"

Her jaw set at the mention of Morgan, and Chuck's deliberate emphasis on "insisted" meant she didn't need to hear the rest of the sentence to guess how it would end—something involving video games and grape soda, no doubt. Her mood was marginally better than it was at dinner, but not by much. The fact that Morgan had spent the night with Chuck instead of her did not bode well for Morgan's well-being. Glancing quickly around the store for the offender, she pulled Chuck to his feet when the bearded green shirt was nowhere in sight.

"Let's go. You're taking a power nap."

"A nap? Where?"

"Home theater room. Come on."

She led him toward the home theater room with little resistance. He weakly protested, the sleep haze impacting coherent thought.

"But…I'm supposed to be working…"

"…because you stupidly volunteered to work, not because the store needed the extra person. This isn't negotiable."

Entering the home theater room, its blinds were already drawn. She barely had a chance to make sure the door latched behind them, ensuring no audio eavesdropping because of the secret communications suite installed in the room, before Chuck to continued toward the couch, pulling her with him. They were both laying down, her on top of him, before she could fully register what was happening. Still a little out of it, Chuck loosely put his arms around her before speaking while burrowing his shoulders into the couch and closing his eyes.

"Casey wanted me to ask you about the security plans if I saw you at all today."

She let out a very Casey-sounding growl as she continued to fidget around while figuring out how to get off the couch with as little contact as possible. It didn't occur to her that, in fidgeting, she was already producing more contact than was necessary.

"Were those his exact words?"

"No, his exact words were, 'If Walker doesn't dump you or kill you over Morgan's idiocy or your own and you actually see her today, tell her that I'm still waiting for my system specs.' Then he went to shoot someone, or so he said."

Instead of responding, or visibly reacting, Sarah attempted to roll off the couch. _I can't kill Casey or talk to him in case we're being watched out in the store, but I WILL pace while I have the opportunity. And being this close to Chuck is a bad idea. _Chuck's hold around her waist tightened. His sleep haze was now gone.

"Stop squirming already. How am I supposed to nap when you're acting like a jumping bean?"

The clarity in his voice surprised her, and she tensely stopped moving around. Chuck shifted around a bit to get comfortable, but he finally sighed as he spoke again.

"Seriously, super secret ninjas are not going to come out of the ceiling in the next 20 minutes. Could you relax just a little, please?"

_There are 100 reasons why I shouldn't do that_, she thought, but she could already feel herself relaxing as she noticed his steady heartbeat. They were relaxed on the couch for all of 30 seconds before Sarah shot back up. Chuck, almost back asleep but not quite, opened one eye to find her gazing down at him with a determined look on her face.

"Taking a nap works better if you actually lay down."

"I just figured out how we're going to get the security plans."

_Sarah Walker, Super Spy strikes again_, he thought. _Does the woman ever have an off-day? Or an off switch, even?_

"And how are we getting the vaunted plans?"

"How are your hacking skills?"

He was wide awake now and sat up against the couch arm. Reacting instinctively to his shifting, Sarah rolled so that her back was against the couch and her head rested on his shoulder.

"Uh, officially, I've never hacked a computer in my life."

"Uh huh. And unofficially?"

"They're …above par, shall we say. Why?"

"You're going to hack into Fort Knox's server and get the files. Officially, I'll pass off the hack attempt as something I asked you to do to test our internal security, and you'll have to make it look like you didn't actually take anything. I win because I'm doing my job—protecting the company's operations and security—and since everyone's in love with you, there's no way they'll be angry at you. If anything, they'll love you more. Everyone wins."

The last portion of the sentence was delivered with a tinge of annoyance. Chuck picked up on it. _Oh my God, is Sarah Walker…jealous? _He was about to say something, but Sarah beat him to it, all too familiar with the look Chuck got when he was about to ask something somewhat personal.

"Don't even think about going there. Does that sound do-able or not?"

He bit back the comment on the tip of his tongue and squeezed his eyes shut as he seriously thought about her proposition.

"If I can do it, hacking their server's going to take some time. I'm not sure I'm going to have enough of it, if Casey needs that stuff by tonight so he can look it over."

"How long until you know for sure?

Eyes open once again, he pondered the ceiling as he mentally calculated.

"Not until I start working on it. I can give you a better guess then."

It wasn't the answer she wanted to hear, but it would have to do. If Chuck couldn't hack the server, she was going to have to get the file a much more obvious, intrusive way.

"OK, just let me know. Now, you need to sleep, or else you won't function later."

Chuck was out cold in minutes, but Sarah never quite fell asleep. Being near him was calming enough. When Sarah exited the room 15 minutes later, she found Morgan casually hovering outside the door. She smiled at him sweetly, which made him visibly gulp.

"Morgan, you are to let Chuck sleep for an hour and then wake him up. OK?"

He could only nod before fearfully scampering away to hide in the DVD section. The sight brought a small smile to Sarah's face. Inexplicably feeling relaxed and in a better mood, Sarah was halfway across the parking lot before she spotted the lime green Beetle, parked in the same place as it was on the surveillance tapes. She forced the smile to say on her face as her mood abruptly tanked as she reopened the Orange Orange after her extended lunch break. The occupant of the Beetle was oblivious to the change, noticing only the smile across her face the entire time.


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: You all continue to be awesome readers and reviewers (especially the anonymous reviewers, since I can't thank you directly; I should have mentioned you folks in an earlier chapter)—thank you for that. Since the last chapter took a little longer than usual to crank out, I wanted to get this one out a little faster, and did so by not writing thank yous to anyone; guilt is a powerful motivator. Those thank yous will soon be on their way. (…after I'm done travelling for the weekend…again.)_

_Just as a general reminder, this story takes place through 2.07 ("Chuck vs. the Fat Lady," though I flat-out ignore any of the issues that were generated by that story arc), when Beckman was still somewhat oblivious to the whole Chuck/Sarah dynamic. Additionally, for those of you pushing for our two favorites to get together soon, allow me to assuage your fears: patience. There will be resolution soon, I promise—I'm not so cruel as to generate so much tension and not deal with it all at the end (I'd like to get to the resolution as much as you )—but first, there's a mission to take care of and a gala to attend…what could _possibly_ go wrong?_

_Also as a reminder: I apologize profusely for typos—I've tried to catch them all, but some have slipped though, no doubt; I'll fix them as I find them (or you find them, whichever happens first). Several italicized words in a row denote a character's thoughts. Finally, I don't own _Chuck_. It's undeniably interesting to consider what life would be like if I did own, though._

-.-.-.-

**Day 8: Friday**

Chuck scrunched his face at output displayed on the computer monitor and tilted his head sideways. He had only an hour or two before he had to run home to shower and change for the gala, and he hadn't hacked Fort Knox's server yet…not for a lack of thinking about or trying to do so. He'd been at it since he woke up from his siesta in the home theater room the previous day, as evidenced by the impressive pyramid of Red Bull cans in the employee break room. The familiar tingle of being on the verge of finding the solution, however, waylaid some of his time-inspired fear.

Seeing Casey stare him down while circling the Herder counter for the third time that hour—the NSA agent had gotten wind of Sarah's plan, and was not pleased that he still had no security plans with the mission hours away—Chuck resisted the urge to loosen his tie and went for folding his hands together and cracking his fingers while glancing at the clock. _This is going to be really close_. Returning his focus to the monitor, he took a deep breath while thoughtfully squinting at the output again before tentatively typing a few commands. Surprised at what the code returned, he typed furiously for a few more minutes before finally getting what he needed—access to the server's files without alerting anyone he was there or taking anything.

"Ha, gotcha," he muttered, scrolling through the trove of folders to find the one for Reed Associates with one hand while starting to dial Sarah with the other. He had no sooner found the folder and saved it—surreptitiously, of course—when Emmett appeared before him at the desk with a devious look on his face. _Is there any other kind of look with Emmett?_

"Chuuuuuuuuuuuuck. If you're done making fish faces at that monitor, service call for you. Hop to it!"

Chuck looked down at his watch. Unless the service call was nearby (which he doubted), there was no way he was going to make it over to Sarah's on time. Wedging the still-ringing phone between his shoulder and ear, he started packing up.

"Can you send someone else? I was just about to leave."

"MISTER Bartowski. While you may be leaving our glorious Buy Moria soon for good…"

"If by 'soon' you mean 'in 60 seconds,' then yes, that's true," Chuck interrupted, patting his pockets for a pen to jot something down fast.

"…you haven't left our borders _yet_." Emmett relished in emphasizing the word "yet," straightening his vest and swiveling his head as he did so. "You will go to this service call."

Chuck's expression didn't change any as he scribbled a few notes for the remaining Nerd Herd employees. The purportedly unflappable and fearless Emmett, shocked that his commanding tone did not compel Chuck into action, scrambled for additional words.

"You will go, or…or…OR I will withhold your final paycheck!"

_You're kidding me. That's the best threat he can think of? _About to tell Emmett off for good, Casey caught Chuck's attention, and with a simple "hurry it up" hand gesture and glare at the back of Emmett's head, Chuck found himself agreeing to the service call to get rid of the troublesome assistant manager before Casey did.

"Fine, fine, I'll go. What's the address?"

Emmett handed him the paperwork with a flourish before turning on his heels and walking away in a victory strut. _Great, so I haven't seen or been able to talk to Sarah in a day, and now we have absolutely no time to get on the same page for tonight._ Sighing, Chuck summed up his thoughts aloud.

"Sarah's _not_ going to like this."

"What am I not going to like?"

He had forgotten that he had dialed her number before Emmett appeared. _I wonder how much of that conversation she heard?_

"Oh, h…hi. How are you?"

The smile across her face at his bumbling was audible in her voice.

"I'm fine. Other than the fact that I have no idea where you were last night, what am I not going to like?"

_Wow, that sounded _very_ girlfriend-ish_, he thought. _Is she in a public place, or is she really getting that good at this? _The ding of an elevator in the background and the whooshing of elevator doors answered his question, followed by the ambient chatter of people. _Ah, public place. _He swapped the phone to his other ear as he repacked his briefcase for the service call. _Maybe if I say it as fast as possible she won't hear it. And maybe if I toss good news on the end and stretch it out, then she really won't hear the first part._

"That I'm going to be late to the gala. But heeeeeeeeeeeey, know what you _are_ going to like? That thing you asked for yesterday. I finished it. That's where I was last night, working on that…thing. It's all set."

His brilliant plan didn't work—she immediately honed in on the first part of the sentence, noting the second part and discarding it.

"Why are you going to be late?"

He really didn't want to tell her why over the phone. He'd much rather tell her in person when he could beg for mercy. _Hmmm, maybe if I ask her questions to counter her initial question, the multiple questions will cancel out hers question and only mine will remain_. _That plan is FLAWLESS! Why didn't I think of it before?_

"Where are you? You sound like you're on the floor of a stock market."

"At Fort Knox. Marilyn's giving me a quick tour of the office before everyone heads to the gala…"

"Why now?" he mused aloud. _…I'm starting to sound like Ellie. Maybe the multiple-question-distraction plan was a bad idea. The plan _might_ be flawed…_

"Because if I'm representing the company tonight, I'd like to know it. I've been here skimming client dossiers all day," she answered without missing a beat, despite his interruption. She didn't mention that the office visit had been her contingency plan if Chuck hadn't hacked the server in time—she'd been 5 minutes away from lifting the hard copy of Reed Associates' security plans and smuggling the file to Casey. _Thank God for Chuck and his great timing. _She still had no idea how she was going to explain that one away. "Now, stop changing the subject. Why are you going to be late?"

_Yep, the plan is definitely flawed._ Chuck frantically tried to remember who Marilyn was so he'd have something else to bring up. _One of the other VPs, that much I remember. The one who said the "Quinn, Quigley" line the other night, I think. What was she…Vice President of…Banana Republic Revolutions? Crap. _He snatched the thumb drive with the security plans out of the computer and spun it around his fingers while he thought. _…Vice President of Finance. Ha, that's it—she's the money tracker._

_That's enough of this_, Sarah thought as the seconds ticked by without a straight answer from Chuck. She hadn't seen him or talked to him since the home theater room yesterday, and she'd been banking all day on the time before the gala to discuss the actual gala, or Casey's mission, or just to…catch up. _That last one has to be the lamest excuse you've ever come up with for wanting to see him_, agent mode remarked. Returning to reality, she realized that he still hadn't answered. She suspected he was stalling before. Now she was positive.

"Chuck!"

The edge to her voice startled him, sending the flash drive skittering across the desk. _How does she do that? How can she convey bodily harm in a single syllable? Is that a class in spy school? "Death threats in a syllable or less"?_ Retrieving the flash drive to fidget with again, he finally relented, hoping that Sarah's reaction would be more subdued than what he envisioned.

"Because Emmett insisted that I take this service call, and no, I don't know why. He was being rather…special."

"You agreed to that? Do you remember what's in a few hours!"

If he was standing next to her, he had no doubt that he'd be getting the dagger eyes. _Or I'd be getting the genuine article, because that's definitely _not_ subdued. Looks like I guessed her reaction correctly after all._

"I know what's in a few hours, but Emmett INSISTED! And Ca…uh, John seemed to be in a hurry to talk to me about something, so I said yes to Emmett to get rid of him."

She was barely past the part where Chuck had agreed to the service call when Casey's name was invoked. Her grip on the phone tightened. _So help me God if Casey made him take this service call just to screw with me. _That_ would be too far._ Intent on discerning whether Casey could be so unprofessional to pull such an antic, she hadn't answered Chuck, and didn't realize it until Chuck spoke again.

"Please say something? Please?"

"Hold on."

Having gathered up her things throughout the conversation, Sarah thanked Marilyn for the tour and waited until the elevator doors were shut. Once they were, she unleashed. Per the usual, her stated reason, while accurate, masked the real one.

"I'm trying to figure out who to kill: Emmett for being insistent, Casey for making you take the call, Morgan for guilting you into working today when you weren't scheduled to, or you for agreeing with Emmett _and_ Casey _and_ Morgan."

_Have I ever gone a week without being on Sarah's to-kill list? _With renewed incentive to finish the service call ASAP, Chuck fished for the keys to the Herder, but quickly discovered they weren't in their normal spot. _Figures. _He shifted around the layers of disorganized papers and semi-organized stacks on the desk, hoping that the keys were somewhere near the top. Because of his digging around, he wasn't fully paying attention to what he was saying.

"See, I'm last on that list! Nice to know our lo..."

Her heart felt like it slowed to the point of stopping. _Oh. my. God, he's actually going to say…_it_. THAT word. Shit. _The sound of jingling keys cut Chuck off, as he looked up to find Casey slightly leaning over the counter.

"What list are you on the bottom of, her list of best boyfriends?" Casey delivered the line with a faux pleasant expression while dangling the Herder keys in front of Chuck's face again, as any coworker would when joking around. Chuck could easily tell where the smug grin and grunts would be inserted. _He's enjoying this far too much_, Chuck thought as he tilted the phone away from his mouth and forced a pleasant expression to his face.

"Hi, John. I was able to..._recover_ those corrupted files you wanted. You know, your pictures from the Democrats' victory rally downtown?" _Gotcha_, Chuck thought as Casey's fingers started twitching more than they normally did when Chuck used his first name. A barely perceptible sneer materialized as well, though the agent's overall expression remained pleasant. Chuck waved the flash stick around before placing it on the counter, snagging the keys off Casey's finger in the same motion. "I think I fixed them all. Call if any of them are still broken, and I'll look at them again. That's assuming _I_ haven't been broken by my irate fiancée, of course."

Chuck delivered the last line lightly and with a chuckle, but his eyes narrowed ever so slightly before opening again. In that time, the flash drive moved from the counter to the safety of Casey's pocket. Casey turned to walk away, but then seemed to remember that he needed to show good manners and an appropriate amount of coworker empathy in case someone was watching.

"Thanks for saving the…files. And sorry about your lady problems, Chuck. If I find a solving-lady-problems self-help book written in Geek-ese or Klingon," Casey's smile grew as he walked to the front of the store, "I'll send it your way."

_Casey's "biting" one-liners become more veiled when he's forced to be polite…that's kind of creepy._

"Nerd-ese, actually, but thanks for the thought."

As soon as Casey's back was turned, Chuck scrambled to check his cell phone to see if the call was still connected. He didn't know whether to be relieved that Sarah was still there—she hadn't hung up on him, but she hadn't said anything the entire time, either. Scooping up the briefcase, Chuck flew toward the front doors, speaking rapidly with a hint of rambling.

"OK, I know that this is entirely my fault. All of it, it's all me, I know, and I'm incredibly sorry. But I promise, whatever this service call is, I'll fix it _really_ fast and be done with the Buy More forever and then I'll be at the gala be there as soon as I can, where I'll then apologize even more profusely and grovel for however long you'd like. Can you fend off the pack of tuxedo-clad wolves until then?"

She let out a small snort at the thought of a tuxedo pack. _Now there's an image_. She let out a slow breath, all but ordering her heart to start beating again. John Casey, whether he knew it or not, had just saved them from…themselves. _Even if he did it the Casey way_, she thought_. _The elevator doors opened to reveal the parking garage, and Sarah headed toward the Porsche. She had really intended to be displeased with Chuck for a while. _But when he apologizes like that…good God._ Thinking about her answer for a little while longer, she finally spoke.

"Tuxedo _pack._ Really now?"

He breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped out into the parking lot. _Any response without mention of killing is a good response._

"Really—a pack: use your amazing yogurt worker skills to watch out for it." He paused while he checked for traffic. "Does that response mean that you're not going to kill me or half my coworkers? The Buy More being understaffed would greatly inconvenience many Burbankians."

Now she was biting back a small smile. _Ridiculous, if this had been a real mission and he'd been late, he'd be dead meat, and you're _smiling_._ _Smiling! _The draconian thought, complements of agent mode, eradicated the smile, but it didn't generate the sense of outrage she was aiming for. It was nearer to "slightly irritated, but already in the process of forgiving."

"Just…hurry it up, please, and I'll consider removing you from my hit list."

"Yes, ma'am. Hurrying it up."

_Another small victory in our very long war_, he thought as he disconnected the call and jogged toward the Herder, making a checklist of all the places he had to stop before he left Burbank. Chuck was completely oblivious to how close he had come to slipping, but the individual sporting a ballcap while casually browsing the recent R&B releases in the Buy More wasn't quite as oblivious.

-.-.-.-

Wearing a black evening gown, Sarah walked into the large ballroom precisely on time, sans date. Already it was well populated; tables covered most of the floor and a raised stage was off to the right. Calmly scanning the crowd for familiar faces and taking note of them, Sarah noticed the hustle and bustle occurring on stage, where the other vice presidents were gathered. The three of them were standing in a half circle around the presenter's podium, quietly speaking to each other. Nodding politely to a few passersby, she took a few steps in that direction before Abigail fell into step next to her.

"Sarah! Great to see you!" She looked over to Sarah's other side and behind them. "Where's Chuck?"

If she hadn't spent the car ride desensitizing their phone conversation and focusing on her mini-mission for evening—making an appearance at the gala and meeting the new clients to solidify her cover—Abigail's question would have gotten a rise out of her. Instead, Sarah gave a small smile as they weaved their way toward the stage.

"He got held up at work. He'll be here in a bit."

"I hope so. Word has gotten around that we've hired you. Everyone's very excited to meet you and hear you speak."

_How the hell does me being hired and people wanting to meet me connect with Chuck being here?_ Taking a few more steps, she quizzically turned toward Abigail as the rest of the sentence registered. _Did she say "speak"?_

"I'm sorry, speak?"

"We traditionally give a small presentation here—how the charity's doing, how the firm's doing, that sort of thing. Because people are so excited to meet you, I thought you could give it. The speech is all written, you've just got to read it."

_She did say "speak." Unbelievable. She couldn't have thought to mention this to me at the office earlier today, maybe when we had lunch? _Taking it in stride, Sarah nodded and responded like she would have if someone had told her that they were rolling out on a mission within the next half hour.

"A speech? Not a problem. How long is it?"

"Only 15 minutes or so, nothing ridiculous. There are slides that go with it, too, but someone will be taking care of them for you…"

Abigail's voice trailed off as she noticed, for the first time, the gaggle of VPs standing around the podium and the conspicuous absence of any image on the screen hanging from the stage's rafters. Mounting the stairs with Sarah, Abigail shifted into professional mode and addressed them all.

"What's going on?"

Marilyn was the first to answer.

"The projector's not working."

The president waited for more elaboration from her VPs and got none. Sarah was trying her best not to laugh—with the addition of her and Abigail, five ex-spies were now standing around staring at a simple computer, clueless as to what was wrong. _Maybe Abigail was on to something with her random line of questioning—too bad Chuck's not here now. The computer'd be fixed in no time._

"…and did we try to fix it?" Abigail pressed.

"We checked the connection and the computer," one of the other VPs answered. "They seem to be working. We called a tech guy a little bit ago to figure out the problem. He's just finishing up."

On cue, the tech guy popped out of the access hatch for the area under the stage and hoisted himself up, brushing off clumps of dust off as he did spoke.

"Wow, they were definitely not thinking of tall people when they put that access hatch in. But, ladies, that should do it. The cable was split, so I rewired it."

_Why am I not surprised?_, Sarah thought as a broad smile crossed her face. Chuck clamored to his feet and walked the short distance to the presenter's podium, still picking off pieces of dust from his Herder uniform. Kneeling to reach the back of the computer, nestled in the middle of the platform in a ridiculously inconvenient location, he noticed Sarah's arrival and unleashed a huge grin in her direction before leaning into the podium to connect the new cable. She leaned on its side as he worked.

"I thought you said you were going to be late?"

His voice was muffled and had a slight echo.

"I thought so, too. Guess not. I can see why Emmett was so insistent on me taking this call, though."

As she scanned the room, she could see why, too. Jeff or Lester in this sort of environment had all the makings of a small nightmare, not only because of the venue and dress code, but also because of the professions of so many of the attendees. Odds of maiming or being otherwise disabled were high. _Looks like I can't kill Emmett now, either. Like Casey, he ended up doing us a favor...damn it. _Chuck's muffled voice bounced around the inside of the podium again as he rummaged around blindly for the new wire he'd fed through the stage floor.

"Does this mean that you're no longer mad at me, since I technically beat you here?"

Pretending to contemplate the question, she couldn't stop the grin from breaking out as she rolled her eyes. Internally, there was a bit more calculation. _For the sake of making the evening simpler, it's easier not to be mad at him. He's on time, he's here, and he's being adorable…surprise._ The last thought wasn't at all relevant, but she allowed it—it swayed the answer in his favor.

"Let's just say that you're lucky I'm not marrying you for your staunch punctuality, or else you might still be in trouble."

She punctuated her answer with two soft knocks to the side of the podium. The unanticipated banter made him smack his head off the top of the computer enclosure as he quickly tried to sit up, forgetting where he was. _Did I miss something, or was there not anger and threats of death or near-death acts a few hours ago? _When he finally managed to extract himself without further injury, she was looking down at him with raised eyebrows and a not-entirely-convincing innocent look. _She's in a suspiciously good mood_, he thought, _but I'm not about to argue...going with it. _He wiggled his eyebrows once at her before diving back into the podium.

"I know it's not my punctuality—it's my good looks and boyish charm. You can admit it, we're among friends."

He could clearly hear her laugh as he successfully found the troublesome wire and connected it to the back of the computer. Carefully backing out of the podium this time, he punched a few commands on the keyboard. Instantly, the projector came to life and displayed the simple, sophisticated logo of Fort Knox Security. While the others breathed a collective sigh of relief, Chuck glanced over his shoulder make sure the projector was indeed working. As his eyes focused on the logo, he suddenly flashed without warning: a colony of penguins, Fort Knox's logo, a detailed list of all of Fort Knox's clients and jobs, a list of all the noted arrivals of other countries' agents into the US, a series of mini-flashes as the Intersect made connections between Fort Knox's jobs and the arrivals, a colony of penguins. Just as the flash finished, Chuck sneezed. _I couldn't have asked for that sneeze to be better timed if I tried_. He punctuated the sneeze with a few forced coughs before speaking.

"I must have inhaled my weight in dust. I'm going to go get some fresh air and change—the Nerd Herd uniform, while dignified in its own way, is not quite dignified enough for this setting or my stunning date. I'll see you ladies in a few."

Everyone else had missed the flash, both because of a combination of being overjoyed at having a functional projector and Chuck's sneezing. Because he had turned toward her to check the screen, Sarah, however, did not. _Oh God, now what?_, she thought. _At least he gave us a reason to excuse ourselves…_

"You need help with your bowtie?"

He stopped gathering the paperwork and tools into his briefcase long enough to shoot her a killer smile.

"You know I do."

Standing and offering Sarah his arm, they headed back out into the lobby. Chuck grabbed his tuxedo bag from coat check—_Who would have thought that swinging by home to pick it up would have been such a great idea_—and started looking for a place to change, not noticing that Sarah was subtly steering them toward an empty conference room.

Tossing the bag on the table as the door clicked behind him, Chuck shed his tie and button down as he paced the length of the room, slowly tilting his head from side to side while thinking about the volume of information that the flash had contained. Turning back toward the door, he was startled to find Sarah perched on the edge of the table. _Oh, right. Where did you think she was going to wait—outside? That would look all sorts of suspicious. Don't freak out._ Clearing his throat several times, he decided to untie his sneakers instead and thought about the mega-flash's intel one last time before he dropped his bombshell.

"Fort Knox is providing security for the coalition that wrote the virus whenever they're in LA."

Sarah's only response to the news was a single raised eyebrow, aimed directly at him instead of the wall she'd been studying. _Seriously, WHAT has Beckman gotten me into now?_

"You're kidding."

"Hey," he said, tapping his head, "the Int…you-know-what does not kid. _I_ kid, _it_ does not."

He focused on the minutiae of the flash again as he fiddled with his dress socks and spoke again before Sarah could.

"You know, I don't think the company knows who they're protecting, though. Every one of those security jobs was signed off on by the same guy: J. Retborn…?"

_Retborn. Where have I heard that name before? It was recently, that much I know._ Drumming her fingers lightly against the edge of the table, Sarah methodically went through everything she'd read over the past week, and the name clicked.

"Justin Retborn was the old VP of Operations and Planning…"

Hearing the man's full name triggered a flash. _Of the normal variety, thank God_. Noticing Chuck's expression, she waited for him to recover as he stood up, shrugged on his dress shirt, and began buttoning while reciting what the Intersect had just revealed.

"Justin Retborn, ex-NSA, joined Fulcrum in 2003. Left the NSA for private employment in LA in 2005, still an active Fulcrum agent. Responsible for security in the greater LA area for Fulcrum operations using a civilian security firm to reduce suspicion."

_The NSA? Casey's going to flip_, Sarah thought with a smirk before her spy radar detected…something. It had to do with the warehouse raid the other night. Unconsciously, she stood up to start pacing the width of the room as she let her mind run uninhibited. _The warehouse where all the servers were located would qualify as one of the missions Chuck described—a Fulcrum mission in the LA area. That means that we provided security for it...wait. _Referring to Fort Knox as "we" had produced another thought. _How did my job even open up? These things don't spontaneously happen. _She thought back to the warehouse raid, snapped her fingers and spun to face Chuck again, who had taken the opportunity to jump into his tuxedo pants and dress shoes while her back was turned.

"Did your flash have anything about his aliases?"

Thinking for a moment, Chuck wrestled with his just-donned suspenders and cummerbund while he answered.

"He's only got one recorded alias in his dossier: James Baeren."

Sitting down in one the conference chairs, she suddenly realized that she'd heard the name before. She was able to place it immediately. _Bingo_.

"James Baeren was one of the people killed in the warehouse raid. I just read the casualty report yesterday. That's how this job opened up."

Stepping in front of her chair, Chuck flipped his collar up to loop the actual bowtie around his neck before he worked on fastening his cufflinks.

"… that explains how you got his job, sure, but does that matter?"

Her intuitive response was "information always matters," but she paused to think before she answered. _OK, fine, let's think: does it matter? What does that tell us?_, she thought as she stood to tie his bowtie. She let her mind wander again before her eyes grew wide and snapped to Chuck's face. All the puzzle pieces had just fallen into place with chilling clarity. _Oh. shit. We might be in _big_ trouble. _Chuck, ever the perceptive one, noticed her reaction. She could feel his eyes on her before he finally captured her hands with his before she choked him—in her moment of chilling clarity, she had ended up tying his tie far too tight.

"Hey, you OK? There are easier ways to kill a man, you know."

The smile on his face dissolved as Sarah just stared back at him, not attempting to move away from him. Never before had he seen her look so serious and intense. _And that's saying something._

"Chuck," she calmly began, hoping that he had repeated something incorrectly. "You said Fort Knox provided security for all Fulcrum operations in the LA area so Fulcrum didn't raise suspicions, right? And that Abigail probably has no idea about any of this?"

_Where was she going with this?_ Still, given deadly serious look on her face, he dutifully recalled the information from the flashes again to make sure he had spoken correctly, and checked once more just to be sure.

"Yes to both. Why?"

_SHIT!_, her mind screamed. _Why in God's name did we ever agree to come to this thing?_ Not privy to her thoughts, Chuck figured it wasn't the answer Sarah was hoping for, indicated by the near death-grip on his hands. When she remained silent, racing through all the implications of what she'd just figured out, he moved enough to make eye contact—_What the hell is going on?,_ he wondered as he finally caught her eye. Neither of them made a move to look away, and her voice was surprisingly level as she calmly dropped her bombshell.

"We are currently at a gala thrown by Fort Knox Security for its clients. Clients that do not show up will look suspicious to Abigail, who at least has a cursory idea of how many jobs we run monthly. If the president of the firm gets suspicious, then clients will have problems hiring our security. To avoid suspicion, then, that means that _all_ of clients will be here…including Fulcrum."

She involuntarily looked away at that point, not needing to spell out the rest—Chuck knew, as well as she did, what Fulcrum was after: him. Chuck being captured was her worst fear, and if she had to guess from Chuck's reaction, it was one of his as well: the blood was draining from his face. A small stumble backwards was quickly righted by Sarah tugging him back, and her voice continued to be steady as she delivered the second bit of news. _He's _really_ not going to like this._

"That also means that, because everyone has heard that I've been hired (_Thanks, Abigail_, she sarcastically noted), Fulcrum knows that one of their own didn't get the job. They've now lost easy access to discrete, cheap security, because I will obviously ask more questions than Retborn did. Because of the virus and its related operations, I'm guessing that easy and discrete security is very important to Fulcrum right now. They'd like to get one of their own back in this position soon. I'm betting that they're going to try…something."

She left it there. _He doesn't need to know what_, praying that he wouldn't ask specifics, but he was more proficient at filling in the spy blanks than she thought. _DID SHE JUST HINT AT WHAT I THINK SHE JUST HINTED AT!_

"WHAT?"

She squeezed his hands tightly, preempting him from saying anything else or panicking fully.

"Call Casey. Now. And then we're getting you out of here."

Too stunned to argue, Chuck punched Casey's speed dial as Sarah freed up one of her hands to grab his garment bag before heading toward the door. The call went directly to Casey's voicemail. _…shit_; the situation seemed serious enough to warrant thought-cursing.

"He's already turned his phone off. He must be inside Reed's office already…though that little trip doesn't seem quite as important as it was before."

Sarah silently agreed. Just as they reached the door and Sarah began to open it, Chuck's brain finally kicked into gear and went through Sarah's conclusions. _Wait, did she just say that I'm leaving and she's not? _Vehemently shaking his head, he reached an arm above her head to lean on the door to keep it shut.

"Hold on, now: if anyone should be getting out of here, it's YOU, not me! I'm not leaving you with these guys!"

Sarah turned around enough to shoot him a blistering look of the CIA-agent variety.

"This isn't negotiable. You're out of here."

The look he gave her back was just as fierce.

"It's going to _have_ to be negotiable. No one in there knows I'm the Inte…you-know-what. You returning alone will look REALLY suspicious, and will do nothing to decrease the chance that Fulcrum will try 'something.' Besides, who's going to be the one watching me with you here maintaining your cover and Casey on a mission, especially if clients get suspicious? The safest place for me to be is with you!"

_Shit, I should have known this was too easy when he was just going to listen and leave_, she thought. Doing the travel math, there was no way she could get him to Castle and make it back in time without being missed. _And, if I make him leave without locking him up somewhere, he'll just sneak back in because he's…Chuck. _It didn't help that Chuck's argument, at its basic level, made perfect sense. She resisted the strong urge to punch the door. _DAMN IT! _Knowing what the answer had to be, she took a deep breath before letting go of the doorknob to roughly grab the lapel of his jacket. Positive that she had his undivided attention, she tugged it several times for emphasis.

"If you leave my side, Chuck, you have _no_ idea how pissed I'll be. Got it?"

…_she said that in her "death threats in a syllable or less" voice. _Chuck managed to swallow as he nodded nervously. _Oh God, what did I get myself into?_

"I got it."

"You need to _promise_ me. Say it."

"I promise—I will not leave your side, OK?"

She stared at him for a moment longer to make sure her point was well understood before opening the door, the normalcy of the hustle and bustle in the lobby surprising them both. By the time they stepped back into the ballroom, both had managed to crack some semblance of a smile. Taking stock of all the people in the ballroom for the first time, Chuck leaned over to Sarah.

"Ready to fend off the pack of tuxedo-clad wolves?"

Her smile became a little more genuine as she shook her head in amazement. _Only Chuck could crack a joke right now_. As the first group of people noticed their entrance and walked their way, Sarah checked her hold on his arm before heading toward the first of many meet and greets.


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: The normal disclaimers (and general awesomeness of all you readers and reviewers) still hold(s)._

-.-.-.-

**Day 8: Friday**

While Sarah watched a dust-covered Chuck haul himself up onto the stage at the gala, Casey was across town sitting stoically near Reed's office building, running through the mission one last time. Whoever had designed the security for Reed's office had been proficient at the task, but wasn't great at it. _Probably some CIA skirt_, he thought with a smug grunt. Casey had found a number of exploitable holes during his first glance at the plans: the security system hinged on making access to the office nearly impossible with near impenetrable external security. With its emphasis on external security, security _within_ the office was not as rigorous as it should have been. Some offices lacked motion detectors, and more importantly, the designer had failed to notice that the ventilation system for the entire building was shared. Reed Associates may have been impossible to break into, but the other offices were not.

Casey's plan was to gain entry into one of those offices, maneuver his way to the office of Reed Associates, pop out of the vent located in Quentin's personal office, gather the intel, and then go right back out the same way. _Piece of cake._ It almost was too simple—something that a junior agent could have done easily. Still, Casey would rather be climbing through ventilation shafts not made with someone his size in mind than schmoozing with spoiled rich businessmen at some party. _At least one member of Team Chuck has a real mission involving spywork tonight_, Casey thought with satisfaction as he turned his cell phone off and pocketed it before climbing out of the SUV.

Chuck's frantic call came in ten minutes after Casey had turned off his phone.

-.-.-.-

_How the hell did we end up with a real mission involving spywork tonight?_, Sarah thought as she forced out a polite laugh for a joke someone at the dinner table had made. _This was supposed to be a boring, but simple and safe, social function…_ The hour of pre-dinner mingling was uneventful. Sarah hadn't let go of Chuck's arm the entire time, preventing him from wandering anywhere. While reducing Chuck's ability to get into trouble may have had something to do with their good fortune so far, Sarah knew why the night had _really_ been uneventful: there hadn't been enough time anything to happen. Only three groups of people were able to talk to them before dinner was served, and they all seemed to be normal, non-Fulcrum clients. _After dinner's going to be the problem_. She stabbed at something on her plate with her fork to reinforce the thought.

She had a few ideas how Fulcrum was going to come at her, but wasn't sure which one they'd pick. _They can't kill me here outright—too many people, both to witness and notice that I disappeared. They might try to kidnap me, but that can't happen until later—again, too many people. Maybe they'll just want to talk and make an offer…_

In thinking about Fulcrum's most likely ploy, she didn't notice that Chuck had leaned over to whisper something. Only years of training prevented her from starting when he spoke.

"Your forced laugh needs a little work. A few extra hours of listening to Morgan's jokes should help."

She shot Chuck a look. Morgan was one person she did not want to think about right now.

"Morgan's going to be lucky if he's alive this time next week, with the way he's going."

_Huh, wow, OK, my new mission: continue to avoid Fulcrum, save Morgan._ He continued their side conversation as the chatter in the ballroom diminished as Abigail took the stage.

"Oh come on, don't be like that—death is bad. Besides, you happen to be talking to the man's best friend. The innocuous things I could tell you about him would provide you with more than enough leverage to fix the problem without knives or killing."

She had to bite her cheek to keep laughing aloud as she tried to give Chuck a reproachful look, failing miserably as he gave her a barely muted smile. Sipping her water while thinking over what he had said, she just rolled her eyes and shook her head this time before the word "leverage" roared across her spy radar.

…_Fulcrum won't make me an offer without having some sort of leverage that would force me to accept._ Her head whipped toward Chuck, who was fidgeting around in his chair, trying to get comfortable for the speech. In watching him squirm, oblivious to her intense look, she now knew how Fulcrum was going to come at her. _Leverage. Chuck. SHIT. I should have made him leave!_

Abigail saying her name drew Sarah back to the present: she was being introduced, and had to head toward the stage. _Shit…again_. There wasn't enough time to explain to Chuck what she'd just realized. _Just please let him stay put while I'm up there. _She leaned over to give him a kiss on the cheek, and surprised him by fiercely whispering into his ear before she stood up.

"Stay. at. the. table."

_Better than "stay in the car"—we're mixing it up a bit_, he thought. As she walked toward the stage, Chuck felt his pocket vibrating, and hurried to grab his phone and silence it. _Oh my God, what is WITH this thing lately?_ About to ignore the call, he happened to look down and saw who was calling: Casey. He debated for a second about not answering it—_Casey being done with his mission means that Sarah might send me home, and I'm NOT leaving her here_. He then thought of all the different ways Casey could kill him. That forced his hand.

Quickly looking up at the stage, he figured he had a few seconds to answer—Sarah was on the stage, but hadn't made it to the podium yet, and the audience was still clapping. _Talk fast talk fast talk fast._ Punching the "Answer" button, he spun in his chair so that his back was to the stage, and hunching over the phone, he did just that, managing to simultaneously launch a quip in Casey's direction.

"Look, I'm really sorry if some of the pictures are still corrupted, buddy, but I really can't do anyth…"

Chuck abruptly stopped when he heard the alarm klaxons in the background. Coughing once, Casey spoke with a very audible, ominous growl.

"This is somehow your fault, idiot. Do something."

_Oh this is not good._

Just then, Sarah started speaking, calmly and crisply. _Crap, no time left! _He spun back toward the stage in time to make eye contact with her. Even from across the room, she saw his panicked look. Eyes darting from her to his phone and back again, he disconnected the call, but not before slinking out of his chair and heading for the lobby.

_Oh God, she's going to kill me._

She noticed his exit as she expertly glanced over the crowd, engagingly speaking all the while. No one could see her hands ball into fists, knuckles turning a frightening shade of white, as they rested on the podium.

_I'm going to kill him._

-.-.-.-

_Did that moron just hang up on me?_ Casey was furious as he rammed his phone back into his pocket, involuntarily coughing as he drew his weapon and eyed the door. He had gained access to one of the neighboring offices just fine, and had been in the process of crawling through the vents above Reed Associates when there was a foreboding metallic groan. Seconds later, the vent shaft (and him, by association) plunged toward the ground, landing in a heap on the floor as various alarms blared. The gash across Casey's back was all he had to show for his little vertical journey. The room that the vent (and Casey) had unceremoniously fallen into had, of course, been one of the few with motion detectors.

Per the office's security plan—Casey remembered it all too well—the room where the detector was tripped went into total lockdown: the door and vents were sealed off. An incapacitating agent was being released into the room, and while Casey had more time than he would have otherwise, complements of the gaping hole in the ceiling, he didn't have _that_ much time. He could already feel the effects of the gas. _If I survive this…_, Casey began to think with a sneer while taking an unsteady step toward the door_._ By the time he took another step, he wasn't able to finish the thought. His gun was, surprisingly, very heavy all the sudden.

Just when taking a nap seemed like the best idea in the world, Casey heard the room's remaining ventilation fans turn back on and the hissing of the gas stop. Seconds later, the door's electronic lock clicked and the door itself suddenly swung open. The gust of fresh air that swooped into the room cleared the cobwebs enough for Casey to get off two shots at the lone, surprised guard standing outside the door. A torrent of expletive-laden Russian crackled over the guard's radio. At least two different voices replied.

Something was very wrong, and Casey noted each irregularity. _The office was supposed to be empty. Useless rent-a-cops don't speak Russian. Those fans weren't supposed to turn on. This door wasn't supposed to swing open. _Cautiously stepping out into the hallway, Casey took a few deep breaths to remove the residual cobwebs before recalling the office's layout and tentatively heading toward Quentin's office, gun at the ready.

-.-.-.-

Sarah had just finished the section of the speech detailing the charity's many accomplishments over the past year, and was transitioning into the real topic of the speech: the firm's position and accomplishments. While moving her eyes around the crowd again, she checked on Chuck. He had at least stayed where she could see him, leaning up against the wall just inside the ballroom near the lobby doors. _That marginally reduces the chance that I'll kill him_. As soon as he'd leaned on the wall, he hadn't moved any: he held his phone sideways in front of him while intensely typing away at it.

_WHAT the hell is so important?_

-.-.-.-

Peering around the final corner, Casey spotted Quentin's office. He hadn't encountered any more guards, save the two currently standing outside the office. Further down the long hallway, past Quentin's office, Casey heard the boisterous laughter of at least four more guards. _This could get interesting_. He was still sizing up the guards, debating between creating a distraction and launching a blatant attack, when Quentin's office door audibly clicked before swinging open. The surprised guards leapt away from the door, drawing their weapons and pointing them toward the inside of the office, looking for whoever opened the door.

_That's lucky._ With their backs toward him, Casey swung into the hallway and downed them both with a shot a piece. Ducking back behind the corner for cover, Casey could hear the guards down the hallway fall silent upon hearing the shots. The heavy footfall of many soldiers soon followed. _Perhaps I should have snuck up behind them and knocked them out... _Sliding a fresh clip into place with a resounding snap-click, Casey finished his thought with a smirk. _…nah._

Preparing to swing into the hallway again, he glanced around the corner to see seven guards charging at him. Cursing himself for underestimating the number of guards down the hallway, they noticed his head peering around the corner and unleashed a barrage of bullets in his direction. Shooting back, but dropping only one of them, Casey began to move behind the corner, but did a double-take when massive blast doors appeared from their recessed hiding place in the walls and started closing in front of the charging guards and behind them. Casey stood in shock as both sets of doors thumped shut, effectively neutralizing the guards—they had nowhere to go. The lights between the blast doors then clicked off, plunging the now-stunned guards into darkness.

It wasn't until Casey saw the lights turn on and off in Quentin's office, twice in rapid succession as if to signal that the office was clear, that he understood that his good fortune was anything but. Casey tilted his head up to look at the security camera, which was slowly swiveling and focusing to point directly at him.

_Bartowski's hacking the system. Everything in this building is wired to the security system: the regular doors, the blast doors, the security cameras, the lights, the ventilation system, the gas…_

Never throwing caution to the wind, Casey crept toward the office, but wasn't surprised to find that Chuck had been correct: the office was empty. Quentin's waist-high desk and long table had a multitude of papers piled upon them, and the wall-to-wall whiteboards were covered in math and computer scribble that meant nothing to Casey, but looked important. Casey gave a small appreciative grunt (one he would never admit to) as Chuck shut and locked the door behind him. The NSA agent now had a free pass to poke around without fear of being ambushed.

-.-.-.-

Thunderous applause followed Sarah's concluding remarks. Glancing toward the doors, she was oddly pleased to note that Chuck was looking right at her with a sheepish grin across his face, clapping as best he could with his phone still in his hands. Once the applause had died down, she could see him check his phone before she lost sight of him as people began standing up from their tables and moving around. She had to clamp down on the sudden panic she felt. _Freaking out is not going to help. He'll head back over here any minute, and then you can lay into him for leaving the table._

Stepping away from the podium, she was about to turn her back to the audience when she noticed something unnatural in the movement of people on the ballroom floor. Her contained panic erupted in full as she turned back and examined the crowd more thoroughly. _Oh dear God, please let me be imagining this…_ The more Sarah watched, the more she knew it was very real. She was seeing it unfold before her very eyes as Abigail and a few of the charity's board members congratulated her on a well-given speech. Two small groups of men were slowly closing on where she had last seen Chuck, something he probably couldn't see from where he was standing. Catching Abigail's attention, she turned a little to the side to speak quietly to her while the others exchanged small talk.

"Chuck was on the phone the entire time, which isn't like him at all. I'll be right back."

Not waiting for a response, she turned back to the larger group to politely excuse herself. She was weaving her way through the crowd seconds later as calmly—and quickly—as possible.

-..-

Chuck let out a sigh of relief as he watched Casey climb out the office window to relative safety. Every transgression that his phone had committed over the past week was suddenly forgotten—it had just come through for him. Big time. _Who would have thought that, using a mere iPhone, an entire security system could be hacked? _Electronically locking the window and punching a few more commands with a faint smile on his face, he finally pocketed the redeemed device and scanned the crowd for Sarah; he had lost track of her after the speech ended. As he did so, the crowd parted long enough to reveal a group of men heading his way before hiding them again. He had gotten a good enough look to know what was going on: the Fulcrum eagle tie pin worn by one of them was a dead giveaway, and they had been staring directly at him. His heart had taken residence in his throat. _Oh crap._ Sarah's stern warning not to leave her side—_Or the table!_—suddenly made all sorts of sense.

He desperately evaluated his options; none looked particularly promising. _What is it with these guys and vanity_, his inner monologue babbled as his eyes fell to a fresh bottle of champagne and tray full of empty glasses being carried by a waiter heading in his direction. _First Mauser with the Fulcrum eagle watch, now this guy with the tie pin. Did they not see _Thunderball_?_ Making a split-second decision as the plan still materialized in his mind, he lifted the bottle and two glasses from the waiter before stepping into the lobby, making a beeline for the still-empty conference room from earlier. _Please please please let this work…_

Stepping inside the room, he barely had time to place his wares on the table and tug at his tie before his cell phone started vibrating again. The goodwill he had felt previously toward the device was gone. _Could I catch a break, here?_ He almost ignored it, not even bothering to check the caller ID. _…but it could be Casey, and it was a good thing you answered last time!_ Fumbling for it while keeping his back to the door, he pulled it out to find a picture of Ellie smiling up at him. _WHAT could she possibly want!_

"Hey, El, _really_ not a good time, can I call you later? … Wait, what? … I really can't talk righ…what? … Yeah yeah yeah, that's fine. … I'm not being presumptuous—I would check with Sarah if I could, but like I said—NOT a good…"

The door clicking shut ended Chuck's sentence as he hung up on Ellie. _Oh _that_ wasn't obvious—good job sticking to the plan._ Still facing away from the door, he tossed his phone into his pocket while reaching for the champagne and started peeling off the foil wrapped around the top of the bottle.

"Fantastic speech, sweetie. Time for som…"

He turned to find five Fulcrum agents in the room with him. All were male, and all were looking at him with a very bemused, but sinister, look. He had been a little worried about appearing honestly surprised that it wasn't Sarah that followed him into the room. His worries were for naught—even he could tell. The nervous smile across his face as he started untwisting the metal cage surrounding the champagne's cork wasn't forced. Neither was the hint of nervousness in his voice that he quickly hid before they noticed.

"Well, you're definitely not Sarah. Can I help you, gentlemen?"

One agent leaned up against the door, preventing it from being opened. Three others stepped off to the side, and the man in charge—Mr. Tie Pin himself—sat down on the table, right where Sarah had been earlier.

"You're doing just fine, sir," stated Tie Pin. "An associate of ours would like a word with Ms. Walker. We've been asked to keep you company in the meantime."

_There's the "something" that Sarah was anticipating. Crap crap crap crap crap…_ Gamble #1 of his, at least, had paid off. _These Fulcrum guys have no idea that I've had brushes with them in the past. They think I'm just the boyfriend…or fiancé…whatever. _He was able to create a fashion a look of curious innocence. _I'm not supposed to know who these guys are, and they are DEFINITELY not supposed to know who I am…_

"I appreciate the thought—you thought you were doing me a favor by saving me from a dreadful social function, but really: you didn't need to keep me company. Your associate could have come over and talked to us both. I don't mind sharing her, really."

Tie Pin gave a thin smile.

"He wanted a private word with Ms. Walker, sir."

_I do NOT like how that sounds._

"Oh."

The room was silent. A thought popped into Chuck's head: _They don't know who I am…but they _do_ know who Sarah is._ If he played this right, it could actually work. Using his natural inclinations to their fullest, Chuck broke the silence with a refined sort of babble as he pocketed the metal cage.

"It's actually kind of nice to be able to come to one of her functions for work, you know?"

The question sat in the air, and all five reacted exactly as Chuck had hoped: they all exchanged sidelong glances with one another. He would even go so far as to say that Tie Pin looked a tad bit intrigued.

"Do you know what your fiancée did for a living, sir?"

_Jackpot. _Chuck shrugged as he glanced at the agent leaning on the door. Luckily for him, door-leaner was taking a keen interest in the exchange, perching on one foot and placing the other flat against the door.

"Some idea, but not much." He hesitated enough to imply forbidden curiosity, drawing them all in even more. "Was…was she good at it?"

"Very."

"Oh. Is that a good thing?"

To his credit, Tie Pin didn't sneer when he answered.

"Depends on what side you're on."

_Alright, time to go for it. Please let this work._ Chuck began wiggling the cork out of the champagne.

"Huh. I guess that makes me feel a little better."

The others remained oblivious and relaxed, but suspicion clouded Tie Pin's face…but just a moment too late. The champagne's cork launched out of the bottle and flew across the room. Chuck had been aiming at the door-leaner, and sure enough, the cork pegged him in the forehead, startling the agent enough to upset his balance and send him sliding off to one side of the door. With the pop sounding like a strange gunshot, and the resistance on the door no longer there, Sarah flew into the room, smashing door-leaner between the wall and the door as she opened and shut it with force. Overjoyed that she had really been outside the door, like he was hoping, and that he had managed to distract everyone long enough with his "innocent" curiosity, Chuck forced himself to focus on Tie Pin, who was beginning to stand up and head toward Sarah.

_Just like Wii Bowling, just like Wii Bowling…_ With the chant continuing in his head, Chuck underhanded the bottle of champagne like a bowling ball with a bit of force, champagne pouring out as the bottle tumbled end over end through the air. It squarely connected with the side of Tie Pin's head, knocking him out cold. Chuck raised his arms in victory as Sarah's particularly vicious right hook connected with the last agent standing—she had managed to take care of the other two while Chuck champagne bowled, though in the floor-length gown, he wasn't quite sure how. _Who would have thought Wii Bowling would have EVER come in handy? Correction: who would have thought that plan would actually WORK!_ Chuck lowered his arms immediately as Sarah spun to face him for the first time. If looks could kill, he would be dead. Of that he had little doubt. He had never seen her so furious before in his life. _Looks like tonight's a night for firsts…_

Her thoughts were more conflicted: _I don't know whether to laugh, cry, or kiss him._ She settled for a fourth, unlisted option as she rapidly crossed the room: punching him in the shoulder. _Hard_. And then almost did it once more before electing to plant her hands on her hips.

"I TOLD you not to leave the table!"

Chuck tried his best not to react—he did deserve it, on some level—but he was wincing and rubbing his shoulder without realizing it. _Wow, that HURT! AND she's pissed. I'm so dead. _

"Ow! And I know you did, but…"

"But NOTHING! There is a _reason_ I told you to stay at the table, and this is EXACTLY why! What would have happened if they had taken you somewhere, huh? Casey's not here, and I wouldn't have been able to get to you! What then, Chuck? Just…_damn_ it!"

The uncharacteristic curse, accompanied by her hand slamming down on the table, rendered him speechless. He had been ready to fire back at her even still once he'd recovered, until he noticed her face wasn't a mask of pure rage anymore. There was something else. Chuck had to study her a little longer before he could put his finger on it. _Holy crap, it's fear. But…fear of the Intersect being captured, or fear of me being captured? _The mere possibility of the latter was sufficient to calm him down. He let out a sigh and spoke in a more moderate tone as she folded her arms across her chest.

"Sarah, the phone call was Casey, he was in trouble, alright? Things didn't go as planned on his end, either. Now, fine, be pissed at me, but you _know_ what I'd do if it was you calling for help and Casey had ordered me to stay at the table."

She saw the grim truth etched across his face. _Oh hell, that's what he was doing on his phone the whole time—helping Casey. God damn it. _The mention of Casey prompted another thought as she pulled Chuck toward the door; more pressing matters precluded her from responding or asking for details. _I have five Fulcrum agents in various states of unconsciousness sprawled around a conference room... _Opening the door, she hauled another into the room—the "associate" that had wanted to speak with her; she had made quick work of him. _…make that six. I need a friendly face, and I need one NOW_.

-..-

Despite being a room populated by many former intelligence officers, their entrance and exit had gone unnoticed by many because it had been voluntary. Still on the stage, Abigail happened to be in the perfect position to see everything. She had been present for Sarah's abrupt departure from the stage, clearly saw Chuck's exit from the ballroom, the exit of six similarly dressed men right after Chuck, Sarah's exit from the room, and had glanced back toward the door again to see Sarah and Chuck reenter, together, minutes later. Abigail's spy radar was roaring, and she began to discretely make her way toward the happy couple.

Sarah was casually leading them back to the stage, it being the highest vantage point in the room, offering the best chance for detecting any more trouble. She doubted the remaining Fulcrum agents would make another attempt, though—it would be too obvious, and they'd have enough problems covering up the botched attempt. However, there was no way that she was risking it. _We got lucky…this time_.

Noticing one of the other VPs heading their way, Sarah offered a small smile before signaling her to hold on a minute. _We need a cover story to explain all of this_, Sarah thought as she noted other VP's eyes slightly narrow in suspicion before smiling and nodding at them, _and it has to be one that's convincing to ex-spies, for Christ's sake!_ _How are we ever going to save this one? _Working through all the possible stories, her thoughts were interrupted when Chuck leaned over to whisper something to her.

"I didn't recognize any of those Fulc…uh, those guys. Did you?"

Chuck's comment stopped Sarah in her tracks. _That's it. That's exactly how we're going to save this one. And he has absolutely no clue—quintessential Chuck_. It was brilliant and simple. Before Chuck could look around to see why they'd stopped, she pulled him into a long gentle kiss. By the time they had parted, Abigail had wordlessly appeared next to them. Noticing that Chuck's hand had taken up residence at the small of her back, Sarah nodded toward the stage with a small grin and resumed walking while she spoke, mind clearer than it was previously. _Chuck said Abigail has no clue what's going on with Fulcrum using the firm for security. Let's hope he's right…_

"Do you mind watching him for a minute?"

If Sarah had said it in the voice used to deliver the speech, the request would have sounded absurd. However, Abigail had heard that tone in Sarah's voice before. It normally was preceded or followed by trouble. Training immediately kicking in, Abigail scanned the crowd while taking a step closer to them. She spoke in clipped tones.

"Sure, why?"

"We just ran into a few leftovers from my last...project. There may be more around, and they seem to've taken a liking to..." Sarah tilted her head toward Chuck, who was catching on to her plan and was trying his best to look the part of the shocked fiancé. It wasn't a stretch. "Watch him while I make a call, please?"

"You're going to be on the phone forever." Abigail knew that Sarah wasn't a favorite at the Agency right now. They'd do something about the problem, but only after giving her the runaround for a little bit.

Sarah ground her teeth. _If we weren't at this damn gala, I would just call Beckman's direct number. Damn cover. _Abigail was, unfortunately, correct. _I'll have to go through normal channels for an ex-agent reporting hostile contact…ugh._

"No choice—it was _that_ kind of project."

Abigail nodded, understanding precisely what sort of project it was as they slowed near the stage steps. Chuck had no clue, which only solidified his look of shock and confusion. Noticing his priceless expression—_Played to perfection!_, she thought with a smile—she wrapped him in a hug.

"Humor me," he whispered, giving her a little squeeze before loosening his hold. "Don't walk off too far. I just used up my ninja quota for the year with that champagne."

She pulled back to shoot him a confused, but curious, expression. _What champagne? _All she remembered from the conference room was barreling through the door and leveling three guys. She'd obviously missed a classic Chuck moment. _His request isn't all that outrageous, either…_

"Fine, but only if I hear the story later."

With a grin and quick kiss to the cheek from him to signal his agreement, Sarah headed up onto the stage and hid in one of the wings, visible to no one except Chuck and Abigail. Sticking his hands in his pockets, Chuck bounced up and down. _OK, breathe, you now have two kick-ass ex-spies watching you. It's fine, it's fine, it's fine…_ Suddenly having the urge to check on Sarah, he looked over his shoulder. She hadn't moved, and was just dialing the number now. Facing forward again, Chuck let out a low whistle as he watched Abigail scan the crowd for what seemed to be the umpteenth time since Sarah had left what seemed like ages ago, but in reality, only seconds. He spoke just loud enough so Abigail could hear.

"Man, what was this last project: illegal yogurt smuggling? Sprinkles of mass destruction?"

He heard her snort, the result of swallowing a laugh. A mini-smirk crossed her face for a beat before it was gone.

"Probably a little bit of both."

_Wow, I was right: definitely not a great conversationalist. _He looked back toward the stage again. Sarah was talking to someone now, and if her clenched jaw was any indication, it was going to be a _very_ long phone call. His infant spy skills chided him as he returned his attention to the crowd in front of him. _Keep looking at that stage and someone's going to notice._ With Abigail's conversation skills doing little to distract him, Chuck bounced a few more times before slowing to a stop. _You might as well get this over with now._ Grabbing his phone, he dialed a familiar number. When the other end picked up, he had to hold the phone away from his ear.

"CHARLES IRVING BARTOWSKI! You better have been in serious trouble _before_, because if not, you are in serious trouble _now_! I try to call you to confirm a time for your engagement party tomorrow, and you hang up on me!"

Abigail wasn't able to contain her laughter this time, Ellie's voice cutting through the background murmur of the crowd easily. Chuck hesitantly moved the phone back toward his ear as Ellie continued her tirade in a more normal tone. All he could do was listen to her rant, unable to get in a word edgewise, but in having something to focus on, he felt himself relax. _Thank God for my own very long phone call…_


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: Final chapter, folks. It's the ultimate chapter, too. (If it weren't, I think I'd be skewered.) Apologies for the delay—this was one of those chapters that I wrote multiple versions of. It's longer than usual, so maybe that'll make up for its lateness. Everyone's continued awesomeness is outright astounding. _

_I didn't proof this chapter as many times as usual; there are probably more typos than normal. I'll fix them when I read it over again later, but do apologize for them in the meantime. The other normal disclaimers, even at the very end, still apply._

-.-.-.-

**Day 9: Saturday**

"Chuck?"

Someone was distantly calling his name. He scrunched his face at the disturbance. Every time last night, it started like that. Unable to do more than process his name—higher cognitive functions were offline—he clumsily shook his head from side to side.

"No, no more dancing!"

The sleep dripped off his words as he flipped from his back to his stomach and smushed his face into the surface under him. _I'm sitting at a table with, at a minimum, two of them no more than five feet away_, he internally drawled out. _They don't need to dance with me every other song!_ He threw his right arm over his head to signal his seriousness to Abigail, or Marilyn, or one of the other VPs: he didn't want to dance anymore.

"Chuck, wake up. The party starts in an hour."

A hand touched his shoulder and lightly shook him, but the contact caused goosebumps to spread across his entire body. Presumably, it had the same effect on the hand's owner—it disappeared from his shoulder immediately. He struggled to process the reaction: the one person that had that effect on him was the only person he _hadn't _danced with. _…fine, one more dance, but only because it's her…_ Tilting his head toward where he thought the voice—Sarah's voice, he corrected after another beat—was coming from, he opened his eyes to narrow slits.

Chuck's guess had proven correct—Sarah was off to his left, standing over him. Taking in his surroundings, though, he realized he wasn't at the gala anymore. He was in his bedroom, passed out on top of his bed. More synapses started firing as he squinted at the alarm clock. _Ugh, I must have been dreaming…or hallucinating…about last night. Great start to the day_. Upon noting the time, and that the dance with Sarah wasn't real, he burrowed his face back into what he now knew was his pillow. His voice was muffled as he spoke in barely intelligible English; aside from knowing where he was, his brain still hadn't fired up fully.

"'S too 'rrrrly."

"You're the one that agreed to a brunch for our engagement party," she replied coolly. "Thanks for letting me know what time it was, by the way: lucky for you, Ellie noticed I didn't spend the night and called to ask me to pick up a few more bottles of wine. Now: get. up."

_She doesn't sound pleased. This day keeps getting better and better… _About to reply to the best of his sleep-clouded ability, her words sunk in. …_oh crap, I did seriously forget to tell her what time the party was._ _CRAP._

It was coming back to him. He hadn't seen much of her after she'd hung up after her _very_ long chat with CIA—she'd looked like she was ready to shoot anything that dared speak to her. The highly unexpected kiss right before Abigail caught up with them, although enjoyable, had thoroughly confused him, and given that she had been on the verge of decking him and dicing him into tiny bits a few minutes before that, Chuck hadn't wanted to push his luck. As a result, despite the kiss, he settled for continuing the shocked-and-clueless, but supportive, fiancé routine.

"Continuing the routine" involved him interacting pleasantly with everyone that approached him…when he wasn't being dragged to the dance floor…and looking at her from a far as she seamlessly switched between cool, professional discussions with the agents that arrived and polite chatter with the clients. He hadn't been able to tell if she was avoiding him or if she truly was that busy juggling both duties. Because he had barely seen her the rest of the night, he certainly hadn't spoken to her—only once, in fact: to say goodnight at the appropriate (and subtly hinted) time. She'd said something about it "being a late night" and "not to wait up," and her voice brokered little opposition: she'd used a hint of the now-infamous "death threats in a syllable or less" voice.

By that point, his conversation with Ellie—and the engagement party—had been the last thing on his mind. Not being sliced and/or diced was his primary concern. All he could do was plaster a small smile on his face, nod, and plant a quick peck on her cheek before saying goodnight to Abigail and the others as he headed toward the Herder. _Though I bet they watched me walk to the car…ha. _Coming off the all-nighter he'd pulled on Thursday night to hack Fort Knox's server, he didn't remember much else about his post-gala Friday night. He did remember that neither Fulcrum nor Sarah were in his bedroom when he had passed out.

Armed with new knowledge, he began to protest Sarah's edict when he realized something else: the goosebumps had yet to dissipate. _Wait…when she touched my shoulder…I __definitely_ felt_ that. It wasn't through a shirt or anything…whhhhhhhhhhy? _Popping his head off the pillow enough to look down at his attire, he had to suppress the groan of incredulity, promptly picking up the pillow and covering his head. In his exhaustion the previous night, he hadn't finished the getting-ready-for-bed process. He had shed everything but his tuxedo pants and hadn't put anything else back on. The groan slipped out this time as he clamped the pillow a little tighter over his head, cheeks burning at his state of undress from the waist up.

_Is there ANY way that Sarah could have missed the no-shirt thing?_ Summoning the courage, he peeked out from under the pillow, blinking his eyes a few times to focus them_. _One look at her, and he had his answer: _…nope, definitely noticed. _Her eyes were angled toward his ceiling, and even though the hands on her hips suggested that she was irate (_…which she is_, he reminded himself), he could see the flush that had crept up her neck and her irregular breathing. _…oh, just _super_: it's going to be one of _those_ days. The days where we almost set each other off with just a touch._

He was still exhausted, but suddenly lacked the energy to argue for a few more minutes of sleep. He reluctantly tossed aside the pillow and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He resisted the urge to pull a blanket over his top half, in case their friend from the other morning as watching, and busied his hands by rubbing his face. With a cautious smile in place, and not wanting to address his apparel, he elected to elaborate on the first thing that he'd said that morning.

"Do you _know_ how many times your coworkers made me dance with them last night?"

_Oh do I ever_, she thought with a reproachful look. She'd had few reprieves from the both the CIA and Fort Knox's clients over the course of the evening, but when they had come, her eyes had found Chuck from across the room. She'd wanted to go over just to simply see him, to assuage her own fears: to make sure that he was here, to make sure he was alright, to make sure he wasn't in some abandoned building being held by Fulcrum. But, every single time, Abigail or one of the other three VPs had him out on the dance floor. At first, she was appreciative, but once they collectively broke a dozen dances—_A dozen dances that you _noticed, she mentally added—she wasn't as appreciative, nor was she amused.

By the time they said goodnight, she wanted him out the door and far away from her coworkers. _Nice to know that Chuck was as fed up with the dancing as I was._ Before she could move much further down that road, agent mode sternly intruded. _Do your job, already—the gala's over. You got lucky last night. Back to reality, before he _is_ kidnapped because of your head being everywhere but here._ The self-reprimand fresh, she was able to look at him instead of the ceiling, taking care to keep her eyes above his neck.

"They were doing me a favor by keeping an eye on you."

His face fell. The sort of high-quality banter from last night was unlikely, he knew, but he was hoping for an answer that didn't come straight out of the Secret Spy's Dictionary. _Metric tons of tension AND she's cemented in agent mode. _It was as if yesterday didn't happen. _Absolutely spectacular._

"Look, I'm really sorry…"

_Oh no, _she thought as soon as he started talking, _not an apology. If it's anything like yesterday's apology, with him dressed like…that, we won't be leaving this room._ She felt the flush creeping up her neck again, and countered it by abruptly cutting him off, a hard edge to her voice.

"Don't."

Unable to deal with the hurt—and shocked—look on his face, she hurried to leave. _Was that _really _necessary?_, one of her inner, non-agent mode voices sniped at her. She slowed as she neared the door. _Probably not. What the hell's wrong with me? _Sighing, she paused in the doorway.

"Just," her tone softened as she slightly turned her head back toward him, "get ready…please. We'll talk later."

He hesitantly nodded before he realized that she was down the hallway already. He flopped back on to the bed with a long sigh.

_Oh yeah, today's _definitely _going to be one of _those_ days. Ugh._

-.-.-.-

Firmly knocking on the door, she didn't have to wait long before it swung open. She had a pleasant smile on her face, vestiges of the bedroom conversation gone.

"Hi, John. Ellie asked me to come over and check on the food?"

_I'm still not sure how Ellie convinced Casey to let her use his kitchen…_

"Sure," Casey answered with the same pleasant smile Sarah was sporting. "Please, come in."

Stepping over the threshold, she couldn't help but reflect on the irony of the situation—she'd been trying to figure out a way to get over to Casey's apartment most of the morning to discuss last night without raising suspicions. Ellie's frantic request to check on the food as Sarah had entered the kitchen was a godsend.

The door clicking shut erased the smile on both their faces, and they proceeded silently to the kitchen. Walking past the table with the surveillance equipment, she noted that the video feed from Chuck's bedroom was full screen—Chuck had just trudged into the hallway. If the video was any indication, Casey had seen everything that had happened that morning. She ground her teeth as she marched past him into the kitchen. _Oh, come _on_. What is it with him? Just leave it alone, Casey…_

"Having a good day, Walker?"

…_or not._ He had a look of smug, knowing innocence all over his face. She didn't dignify his prodding with a response, shooting him a scathing glare over her shoulder before returning her attention to the various pots on the burners.

"Want to tell me what happened on your end last night before I tell you what happened on mine?"

He grunted, leaning against the doorway leading from the front room to the kitchen.

"I already know what happened on your end—Beckman briefed me and had me pull the surveillance footage from the party."

_Oh spectacular. So now he's not only seen how the morning started, but he knows exactly how the entire night went. _Stirring one of the pots with a bit more vigor than necessary before effortlessly launching the spoon into the sink and setting the timer for a few additional minutes, she smoothly twirled to face Casey and leaned back onto the counter.

"Fine, then you tell me what happened on your end. All I know is that you ran into trouble and Chuck got you out of it."

"Huh, cute. How about the trouble you two ran into last night? This morning? Sure you don't want to talk about that?"

_NOT in the mood. _Clenching her jaw and crossing her arms over her chest, she noticed the set of chef's knives mounted on the wall. They were well within reach. She gave them a long, sidelong glance before refocusing on Casey. The signal was received loud and clear. Casey subtly pulled a hefty wooden cutting board closer to him—a possible shield—and ran through his Friday night.

Because Sarah hadn't gotten a chance to look at the plans for Reed's office, Casey meticulously detailed his general plan for infiltrating the office building and the beginning of its execution. But, in typical Casey fashion, he glossed over the finer points of his inglorious spill from the ceiling and Chuck's pivotal assistance, skipping ahead to snooping around Quentin's office.

She'd learned, after working with Casey for over a year, that what he didn't say was as important as what he did say. In this case, scrutinizing Casey's expression and tone, his omission meant one thing. Its magnitude cased her eyes to widen. _…Chuck didn't just _assist _Casey and speed things up. Chuck literally _saved _Casey. And Casey knows it, too. _Quickly drawing in a breath to refocus before she started mind-fawning over Chuck, she tuned in again to hear the end of Casey's condensed retelling.

"...after I got back here, made my report to Beckman. She wanted the Intersect to look over everything ASAP, see if anything triggered a flash. Cleaned up, and waited for you and the Geek Wonder of the World to get home. Imagine my surprise when it was only him—made my job easier. Went over to see him, used the 'files are still corrupted' excuse that he so conveniently created earlier, and had him look everything over. Took a while to get through it all…"

_Well, the more-than-usual grogginess this morning makes more sense_, she thought with professional detachment_. If Casey had kept him up most of the night looking at intel, he probably didn't sleep much…_

"…but he flashed on a few things," Casey continued, "recognized a few others from working on the virus stuff. He also concealed the entire mission, somehow—you're going to ask him about that. Between what he gave us and the obvious things I found, next week's going to be busy."

She inclined her head slightly to acknowledge his statement. Left unsaid was how they were going to be "busy" this week without blowing anyone's new cover. _Probably a good call on his part_, Sarah thought grimly as she silenced the beeping timer and faced the stove to check the food. _Just_ thinking_ about thinking about it is making me sick_. _I need to get out of here before he starts in on us again._ Picking up two of the pots, contents now ready for consumption, she nodded at the remaining food on the stove.

"You mind helping me over with this?"

A sardonic grunt was all she got in reply, but Casey surprisingly stepped over to pick up two others without a fight as she headed toward the front door.

"Hey, Walker."

Pausing as she turned the doorknob, she looked over at him with a barely patient expression.

"What."

"This little cover of yours, as obnoxious and annoying as it is, needs to be rock solid after this circus."

…_no kidding. Thanks, Casey._

"I know how to my job."

She swung the front door open, effectively ending the conversation.

"Thanks so much for the help, John!"

Still deep inside the apartment, he shook his head with a patented Casey sneer as he replied cheerfully.

"Not a problem at all."

-.-.-.-

_Man, I don't even know some of these people_, Chuck thought as he was barraged by multiple, hard slaps on the back, slaps so hard he took an involuntary step forward before righting himself again. A group of Awesome's frat brothers stepped into Chuck's view, all of them enthusiastically giving him double-thumbs up and cheerful congratulations as they walked by. _Were the thumbs-up necessary—nearly knocking me over wasn't sufficient?_ He almost made the sardonic remark aloud, but stopped himself, forcing a grin instead and thanking them instead.

Even though he'd gotten over the immediate shock of Sarah and his apology earlier, his mood continued to be less than stellar. He resisted the urge to sigh—too many people would notice that. _Why can't we just act like we did last night? I don't get it. _He settled for restlessly scanning the packed courtyard for Sarah instead. They had been saying hello to everyone separately all afternoon, no doubt a product of how their morning had started. _Yeah, because THIS doesn't look suspicious_, he couldn't help but think as he kept scanning the crowd.

He spotted her then, standing near the fountain. Despite everything, the sight made him smile: she was making polite chit-chat with Abigail and Marilyn. Studying her posture more closely, her calm exterior was forced—he could tell. In reality, she was about as pleased as he was. _Maybe I should go over and try to sneak in an apology again_. He'd entertained the thought several times already that day, but had decided against it each time. _She said we'd talk later—so, we'll talk later. Plus, you promised her you'd make sure this didn't feel too real, remember. _

Someone suddenly grabbed his hand and started rigorously shaking it, wishing him congratulations repeatedly. Hesitantly, he began to shift his focus to whoever was holding his hand, but just then, Sarah's head snapped toward Abigail. Slight panic crossed her face for a moment before it was concealed beneath a more pleasant-looking expression.

…_OK, forget talking later. I'm going over there now._ Absentmindedly muttering an apology to the person holding onto his hand as he forcibly extracted it, he began ducking and weaving his way across the courtyard. He was close enough to hear Sarah sputter out an answer to whatever it was that Abigail had said.

"I'm sorry, _what_?"

_Shit, maybe Casey was right to say something_, she thought as she casually looked for Chuck. He wasn't anywhere in sight.

"You're really going to make me repeat that?" Abigail replied, regarding Sarah with the skeptical ex-spy eye while taking a sip from her drink. Marilyn, too, was looking at Sarah skeptically.

For a moment, Chuck thought he was walking into a spy-related conversation. He almost turned around, but then he saw Sarah quickly glance over to where he had been standing for most of the evening, near the courtyard's entrance. _Nope, not a spy conversation. _He was evaluating how to quickly clear the final cluster of people—the Buy More green shirts—when Sarah answered with a combination of shock and vehemence.

"No, Chuck and I are _not_ 'having problems already.' "

_Oh _crap_. Ex-spies questioning our cover. Not good not good not good not good… _One of the green shirts spotted him, and said something to the others that had them all stampeding towards him. Eyeing the fountain, he utilized its edge as his escape route, precariously dodging empty pop cans and crumb-filled paper plates as he bypassed the green shirts and danced the last few feet to where Sarah and the others were standing. He appeared next to her just as she was finishing her sentence, and was able to seamlessly tack on to the end of it.

"She's just irritated that I remembered to invite her boss to the party and not her."

Her head snapped toward him as he stepped up next to her. He gave her an innocent hip bump and tentative smile, not quite knowing how his rescue attempt would go over. Rolling her eyes at him, a relieved smirk crept across her face as she returned the hip bump. _He's not getting out of this one that easily, though_, she thought, looking to her coworkers for support.

"I think that's a good reason for being irritated, don't you?"

Abigail and Marilyn looked like they would have agreed if they could, but they were tongue-tied—the reason was so _mundane_ and non-nefarious that it would have sounded ridiculous coming from anyone else, but it seemed eerily believable as Chuck defended himself and the conversation went on.

"I _tried_ to apologize this morning, if you recall."

"I recall that when you tried to apologize, not only did the party start in an hour, but you were shirtless. That was not going to end well."

His eyebrows shot up. …_WOW. I didn't think she would EVER admit that aloud._ Their exchanges had been more like bantering than arguing. He decided to take a small risk. Stepping behind her, he wrapped his arms around her waist and perched his chin on her shoulder, whispering into her ear. She tensed, but made no effort to get away.

"Hey, you could have requested that I put on a shirt."

"Just like you could have requested that I attend the party today."

"What if I said I was really really really really really really…" he took an exaggerated breath, "really really really…"

She finally elbowed him in the ribs, but her voice was light, if not a tad sarcastic, as she finally relaxed into his embrace.

"My God, you're impossible."

"Impossible to resist? So I've been told."

He could feel her laughing rather than hear it. A huge grin across his face, he picked his head up and spoke a little louder so Abigail and Marilyn could hear.

"You know, though I can't really think of _how_ it could be worse than forgetting to invite you, I'm sure it could be. Somehow."

"That's true, Sarah," Marilyn finally piped in, recovering enough to speak. "He could have remembered to invite your exes and not you. _That_ would have been awkward."

_But not nearly as awkward as this moment is right now_, he thought. Predictably, Sarah tensed up, but when she spun out of his embrace, she was still holding on to his hands and was looking at him somewhat oddly.

"How do I look?"

"Uh…" He coughed a few times to clear his throat. _Where did THAT come from? _"Is this a trick question?"

"Not a trick question, promise."

He leaned back and tried his best to examine her clinically. _Jeans and a polo. Looks fantastic to me._

"You look stunning, just like every day. Why?"

Her mind was already racing, eyes bouncing between their joined hands and the fountain and Ellie and Casey and the odd-shaped hedge and…everything in sight. _Oh my God, that's it. I can't believe I didn't put it all together before now._

He noticed the look on her face and started to panic.

"What? Were you looking for a particular adjective? I have more of them…"

"No, that was fine. We need to talk."

"Uh…now?"

She had already started moving toward his open bedroom window.

"Now."

After they had hopped through and pulled it shut, even the seasoned ex-spies present in the crowd didn't notice Casey reach into his pocket and activate a portable jammer, nor did they notice him casually stand like a sentry near Chuck's window, his back to it, with a smirk on his face. It appeared that Walker had just figured out what he had noticed most of the week. _About time, Walker. Score one for Team Chuck._

-.-.-.-

Sarah sat down hard on the edge of Chuck's bed, incredulous at how oblivious she'd been. _I can't believe I didn't see any of it before. _She looked up at Chuck, who was sitting a few inches in front of her in his computer chair, looking very concerned all the while.

"Sarah, what's wrong? I'm sorry if I went a little too far out there, but Abig…"

Shaking her head, she assuaged his fear about the courtyard.

"This isn't about that. You're sure I look fine, right?"

Just to make sure, he looked her over one more time, reaching the same conclusion as before.

"Yes, you look absolutely fantastic, gorgeous, wonderful…"

She silenced him by gently placing the tips of her fingers over his mouth, a shy smile on her face from his effusive complements. He tentatively spoke after she dropped her hand back to her lap.

"Are you mad at me…again?"

"I'm not sure yet." She paused for a moment to collect her thoughts, making sure that everything made as much sense as it did a minute prior when it came together in the courtyard. Stretching the length of the bed to turn on his radio loudly to mask their conversation, her gaze was calm, but piercing when she settled back into place and spoke again, leaning a little closer so he could hear her over the music. "But I distinctly remember you saying that you hated me in red."

Chuck's eyes went wide as he looked at what she was wearing again. _Blue jeans…and a red polo. _It was actually more of a salmon, but he wasn't about to go down that road…again. _Oh crap. _He nervously chuckled.

"Let's chalk that up to a momentary lapse in judgment, because it's a proven fact: you look great in any color."

"I also distinctly remember you breaking up with me right around that time. Chalk that up to a momentary lapse in judgment, too?"

His voice was very small when he answered. _There's no way she knows how those two are _really_ connected._

"…yeees?"

"No. It was Bryce, wasn't it," she calmly stated, tone very matter-of-fact.

_Or she DOES know how they're connected. Holy. CRAP. _He tried to bluff his way out.

"How could it be Bryce? It's not like I have him on speed dial."

"This has him written _all_ over it, and he was in town when it all happened. That's not a coincidence."

She stared him down, no hint of anger present, just mind-blowing clarity. He finally relented with a miniscule shrug.

"Yeah, he might have had something to do with it. Though I feel kind of bad just letting him take the fall for it, I mean, it's not like he twisted my ar…"

Sarah sighed, which was enough to stop Chuck from babbling much more.

"Why?"

"Uh, well, you know." He shifted around in the chair. "He was worried that we were developing, uh…feelings for one another, and that the feelings were going to get one or both of us hurt, so the red thing was to show him that we weren't. Weren't developing feelings for one another, I mean. But then you did get hurt, and he brought it up again, and then, uh…well, you know what happens from there."

"You decided that you would break up with me to prevent me from getting hurt again."

The guilt on his face was enough of an answer as his eyes darted over her shoulder to the _Dune _movie poster. _God, that explains so much_, she thought as she leaned back a little on the bed, taking a deep breath. _It explains his behavior since then, it explains his little speech last Saturday, why he's felt so guilty about making this feel too real… _She didn't feel angry with him, for some reason—perhaps the massive "a-ha!" moment was mitigating the ire she would have normally felt. Trying figuring out what she _was_ feeling, he looked back at her, his eyes inexplicably full of awe. It took her by surprise.

"Wow, just…how? How did that come together right now?"

"It came together now when Marilyn made her comment about inviting our exes. We were standing right where you broke up with me."

He waited a beat, but she didn't speak again. He thought that was all she was going to say, and began slowly wheeling himself back toward his desk. _Not quite sure why we had to talk about this now, but whatever… _Her hand flying to his knee stopped him, and his head snapped up to catch her barely audible words.

"Just like it came together now that the only time I've been able to think lately has been when I haven't been fighting our new cover."

It was his turn to be surprised, rapidly wheeling back to the bed. Some of the big examples were flying through her head in rapid succession: _Every problem I've had with this cover has been keeping the professional/personal line, and most of the tension all week has been because of the struggle to keep that line—Monday evening, Tuesday night, this morning... When I stopped focusing on the line, things clicked: I couldn't think of a way to get Reed's security plans all of Thursday, but I got it in less than a minute once he pulled me down onto the couch with him. Everything came together in the conference room on Friday night once I made that decision on the stage to enjoy the evening. And I didn't even realize all of THIS until I relaxed 5 minutes ago... _Thinking through the all the evidence, she found the words to continue after swallowing once.

"Your reason for us not being together was crap. I'm able to do my job better when I'm not fighting…this." She used her index finger to point between them. "If I hadn't been fighting it so hard, that shot in the train station would have been easy."

Chuck scooted close enough so that their foreheads bumped together. She wasn't sure if it was on purpose or on accident, but her hands went up to his shoulders to prevent him from possibly moving back. Her voice dropped even lower.

"My reason's crap, too. Ellie was right. I could never leave you. I'd quit."

The statement hung in the room. _...WHAT?_; his brain refused to function beyond that. His eyes scrutinized her face. A tension-filled beat passed before there was action: he closed the gap between them, lips colliding as she pulled them back onto the bed. Heating up quickly—one of his hands had grazed her stomach, and she'd arched into him with a hitched breath—only she heard the click of the bedroom door over the music.

Instinctively, she began to flip him toward the door so that he'd be the one pinned to the bed. A throwing knife appeared in her left hand, and as she flipped them over, she sat them up and let the knife fly without opening her eyes or breaking their kiss. Only when she heard it embed with its distinctive _thunk_ did she reluctantly pull away and turn toward the door to assess the situation. The knife had flown straight and true, landing right where she wanted it to land: just to the right of the door at chest level. Her eyes grew wide before fiercely narrowing as she took in the scene.

After she had broken the kiss, Chuck had flopped back down to the bed, hands lightly resting on her hips as he caught his breath. He opened his eyes to find himself looking not at Sarah's face, but at her profile. She was breathing as heavily as he was, but she was intensely looking at the door. _Wh…did someone knock?_, he wondered. Curious as to what she was so focused on, he twisted his neck and upper body enough to follow where Sarah was looking.

His bedroom door was partially open. Morgan had taken one step into the room, an Xbox 360 game tucked under his arm, but one foot was hovering in the air as he awkwardly held a grape soda by the bottom of the can with his left hand. His eyes were bulging out of their head as they ping-ponged between the bed and the wall. _Well, I already know what's happening on the bed_..., Chuck thought, but his eyes snapped to the second location. The handle of a familiar throwing knife was clearly visible. That was shocking in itself. What was more shocking was the can of grape soda that the knife had cleanly impaled. The can was securely fastened to Chuck's wall, grape soda drizzling down it.

Chuck's mouth unconsciously dropped and his brows furrowed as he stared at the can. He had no idea how Sarah's knife had nailed the soda and missed Morgan. _I don't believe this… _While he had noticed the intruder later than Sarah, both of the bed's occupants ended up shouting loudly with one voice.

"MORGAN!"

Noticing that Sarah's hand was heading toward the small of her back, presumably to grab another knife, Chuck knew he had to act. Flipping them over again, he pinned her arms above her head and stared Morgan down as best as he could over his shoulder while yelling over the radio.

"Dude, she's gonna KILL you. Run."

Chuck's emphasis on the last word jolted Morgan from his terrified stupor. Yanking the door closed, it slammed shut, and once Chuck was _sure_ Morgan had fled a reasonable distance, he let go of Sarah. She propped herself up on her elbows as he leaned back and gave him a quizzical look.

"You know I could have gotten out of that, right."

"I was hoping that the whole novelty and newness of the situation would work in my favor."

She sat up enough to kiss him again, deepening it a bit before breaking it off. Her eyes flicked to her handiwork.

"Do you care that I almost just killed your best friend?"

"Eh, well…" He glanced over at the can. "If you were trying to kill him, he'd be dead. Besides, I think after everything he's pulled over the past week, he was due for…something. Not sure _I_ would have murdered the man's carbonated beverage before his very eyes, but it's very fitting for you."

The kiss this time went on until they ran out of air.

"Now what?" he gasped as they pulled apart.

"At some point, we have to talk about what happened last night so we're all on the same page. As for the rest…"

She almost told him about Samoa, but decided against it. _I just told him I'd quit before I'd leave him. A vaguely worded warning is fine._

"…Casey won't care as long as the missions aren't affected, but Beckman might—she can't find out. We'll take it one day at a time, but for now, we have to get back to the party and enjoy what's left of it as a real couple."

His grin was blinding as he slid off the bed, standing up and offering her his hand. He seemed to realize something as he pondered the knife-and-can on his wall.

"Whoa whoa whoa whoa," he started, dramatically pausing to make sure he had her attention as he pulled her up off the bed for another quick kiss. "Just so we're clear…"

His opening had put her in a serious frame of mind. _Clear about what?_, she thought with a tinge of nervousness.

"… we're going to have to set ground rules about concealed weaponry. I mean, come on, one of these times, one thing's going to lead to another…and then I'm going to lose a finger or something, and you _know_ how I am with blood. And lost body parts. And both combined. I don't think tha…"

His smile was getting larger and she couldn't stop the large grin from appearing for a multitude of reasons. _Let's have a little fun before I agree—he's paying for that opening._ She smiled sweetly.

"Sorry, sweetie. Occupational hazard."

"Oh reaaaaaaaaaaally?"

Leaving him standing near the bed, she walked backward toward the window, slightly nodding while arching her eyebrows. He followed her, accompanying his words with elaborate hand gestures.

"Well then. Guess it won't matter, though: as of last night when I got that projector working, I ceased being a Nerd Herder. I'm officially a computer programmer now. Do you know how many all-nighters, on average, we pull a week?"

He was clearly kidding—the rest of his face the corners of his mouth were uncontrollably twitching upwards—but her eyes narrowed a bit as she unlatched the window without looking.

"…are you saying that we're never sleeping together?"

"Hey," he shrugged, with a flawless deadpan delivery, "occupational hazard."

Both of them were grinning uncontrollably and laughing as they climbed back into the courtyard.

-.-.-.-

The party, surprisingly, lasted well into the night, with leftovers and spontaneously ordered pizza serving as an impromptu dinner. Everyone, civilians and ex-spies alike, had fun, some more than others—Marilyn, for instance, had a _lot_ of fun. More than she'd had in a while.

Walking into her sizable apartment, she made a beeline for the kitchen, specifically, the liquor cabinet. Filling a tumbler with a two token ice cubes, a small amount of Coke, and a liberal amount of rum, she found herself sitting in front of the computer before long. Illuminated only by the glow of the monitor and a small desk lamp, she thoughtfully stared at the wall behind the monitor. Sipping her drink, Marilyn finally shook the mouse from side to side to wake up the computer, and began writing what she knew would be a long email:

_Tim,_

_The note you scribbled in your card couldn't be more right—it's funny how fast bad news travels in the intelligence community. Thank you for the sympathy card: it got here on Thursday. I can't quite believe that Justin's been gone a week today. I know you were wondering about what happened, but everyone still is. I was at a conference all of last week and feel much more out of the loop than normal, and no one at the firm has any clue what happened other than one of our clients got hit and Justin happened to be on site. It was bound to happen, I suppose. He made a lot of on-site visits the past few months, and seemed to be more distracted and stressed than usual. He said things were fine when he was actually home and I could ask him. Guess not, but oh well. Occupational hazard._

_I'm not writing to thank you for the card, though. I wanted to give you a report about the request you made the week before last—the one involving some_ _unofficial poking around. The last time I talked to Justin, sometime late last week, he said could procure some human surveillance from the firm and keep it off the books, but he wasn't going to be able to do it until this past Monday. He was more curious than you, me, and everyone else about Walker and Casey both being in LA for so long. Because of how the weekend went, the plan changed. A lot has changed here in general since you emailed, and not just to Justin and me. _

_I was able to scrounge a temporary surveillance team together by hiring local muscle once I heard the news about Justin and got back into town. They started surveillance early Sunday morning, using some spare equipment I had around the house. Not a particularly bright bunch, and not very proficient at covert observation, but I've found the locals to be surprisingly observant. On Monday, I planned to ask Abigail and other two VPs if they would mind helping out once I got to the office. I figured if I phrased it right, the unofficial sympathy vote would be in my favor. _

_The plan ended up changing again when Abigail announced during our weekly working lunch that Sarah Walker had "given notice" to the CIA. They were letting her leave alive, and she was applying for Justin's job, Abigail said. We were all skeptical, her (Abigail) especially, but after she met with Walker, she completely changed her mind: she _knew _(you know how Abigail gets) that it was true and had hired her on the spot. The rest of us remained less than convinced, and I was rather displeased—using any of the others to help poke around was now out of the question. The temporary team became permanent. Luckily, everything indicates that they haven't been detected by Walker or Casey. It's the first break we've had._

_I'm still not pleased, but after meeting Walker and talking with her this past week, everyone's convinced. Sarah Walker has officially quit the CIA. Period. You're never going to believe why. I didn't when Abigail told me, but it's true: the legendary Sarah Walker has fallen in love. I've met her fiancé (yes, you read that right), a civilian that she met while stationed here. I danced with him yesterday night at our gala, and I was at their engagement party all today. He's quite real. You're probably not convinced, but it's something you have to see to believe._

_Because Walker is the best, she could be acting. She's that good, after all, and could have seduced the hell out of this guy. Compiling all the different reports from my locals, it's not possible. All of it's real. She announced to his_ _entire family that she was quitting the CIA on Monday, and has talked to the fiancé's sister about her old job. He proposed on Tuesday (Walker was _stunned_, didn't see it coming at all), and their mornings and nights since then have been more than interesting to watch. I, for one, am convinced, by both what I've seen and what I've been told. If it's an act, it's Oscar worthy. _

_I don't know what brought Walker here in the first place, other than it was one of _those_ missions. All of us found that out at the gala after a few hostiles tried to kidnap her fiancé. The rest of us watched him while she dealt with the CIA, so I didn't get to see any of the almost kidnappers. I couldn't begin to tell you if they were of foreign or domestic origin. Whatever her last mission was, it was a serious one. I'll keep my ear to the ground and poke around a little more to see what I can find out, but it does seem like a moot point now. If the mission was so important, why would they have let her leave?_

_John Casey is more of a mystery. I still don't know why he's in LA, or why his cover job (a sales rep at a chain electronics store) is what it is. He broke into an office building alone on Friday night, the person watching him told me, but the person then sheepishly added that he forgot to write down the address of the building and couldn't find it again. Useful, right? I'll watch for unusual break-in reports, but I'm not holding my breath._

_Walker and Casey being in LA together seems to be a very large coincidence. Their paths cross often, but I've never seen them alone in the same place for long without a good reason. I have a funny feeling that the fiancé, the tech supervisor at the electronics store, got Casey his cover job—they live in the same apartment complex, carpool frequently, and socialize on a semi-regular basis. How's that for ironic? When Casey and Walker do end up socializing (mostly at the fiancé's bidding—if only he knew Casey was an NSA agent!), all their interactions are purely social. I'd be surprised if they've ever talked shop._

_Because Walker's starting at the firm next Monday, it'll be easier to keep eyes on her. I'm going to shift most of the surveillance that's been on her to Casey. He's still an active agent, and we know little about what's he's doing here—less than we know about Walker, even. If there's anything else I should be looking for, let me know._

_Best,_

_Marilyn_

-.-.-.-END-.-.-.-

**Sequel**: Chuck vs. the Accidental Benedict Arnold (see author profile)

_A/N2: Again, thank you all for hanging with the story, particularly when you were less than pleased with how it was going. Hopefully, you're all at least indifferent to how it ended. Perhaps a few of you even liked it, but that might be a bit much to ask for. Not sure what my next FF project will be. We'll have to see._

_...A/N2.1: I didn't realize that so many people were gunning for a sequel to the sequel! Holy crap. That's part of the reason the above A/N is so vague. Now we'll _really_ have to see what happens..._


End file.
